


Darling, Love is Ugly

by Jenna_Nicole



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Developing Friendships, Empath, Empathy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Loki & Thor Friendship (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Redemption, Loki Whump, No Smut, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Mantis (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Frigga (Marvel), Romantic Fluff, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenna_Nicole/pseuds/Jenna_Nicole
Summary: They found a loophole, and Loki lives, but Midgard does not welcome Thor or his brother as they used to. This drives them to the Guardians of the Galaxy, where new friendships can be formed, new adventures can unfold, and old relationships can be mended. However, when Loki gets to know Mantis, a girl with the most intrusive, invasive powers, he finds himself frightened by the prospect of this girl seeing him for who he is. Will he ever let her see the truth, or will he hide away in the back of the ship forever? (Story's focus is on the relationship between Loki and Mantis as well as Loki and Thor).Note: As of now everyone is purely platonic.





	1. One: Mantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mantis observes the Benatar.

**One**

_**Mantis** _

_**** _

I am an empath. Quite simply the word itself and nothing else beyond it. My full purpose since my larva state has resounded amidst this word. The emotions come in waves each morning and each night, and sometimes I find it difficult to decipher if they are my own or someone else’s. You see, being an empath is like being in the eye of a hurricane. I see all the disaster and waste that comes from people’s thoughts and feelings, and sometimes I get rained on too. I watch those things swirling around and around and sometimes I get wet. And the rain is on my arms and in my eyes, I can’t tell if it comes from my own eyes or someone else’s.

I am aware this sounds dramatic. And it is dramatic to feel the tug of war within humans and aliens and gods alike. And now, despite the rest of my life, I am overwhelmed. I have never felt so much. I have never witnessed the presence of so many people. Even two is much. Even one.

In my early childhood, Ego took the time to show me how a person thought about things. He told me, “this is happiness.” “This is sadness.” “This is love.” I never really saw those things in him, but he had described them. He told me stories often of people, and I would do my best to point out how those characters felt. I was so young when he told me stories, playing them in his makeshift cinema.

“Is he happy?” I asked about one character.

“He is,” Ego told me.

But now, in the presence of real people, I realize that he was not. Not happy, that is.

And neither was I. Never had been. Never knew I wasn’t until I became happy.

I am glad to have found friends. Drax, in particular, has made my heart happy, in a way that results in my stomach hurting in a good way. Laughter, I suppose, is the source of our connection. Drax, though lonely often, does not run out of comedy. And its crude, I guess, if crude is a bad thing. I don’t know why it would be. And he appreciates my acceptance of that.

“For someone who feels so much, you aren’t all that sensitive.”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “I call you ugly and you laugh.”

I don’t understand why ugly would be bad, and if so, what is it? What makes someone ugly? I clear my throat, only to make my point stand. “I am glad to be ugly.” Because I know Drax is right. Someday, if I am loved, I will be loved for real. And even if I am not loved, because I am too ugly, it doesn’t matter. I have Drax. I have me.

“Girls don’t like to be called ugly, most of the time.”

“Why not? They should take it as a compliment.”

He laughs at me again and I find myself smiling awkwardly because I think I should feel like I’m wrong about this. Back when Gamora was alive, she had always made a point to reassure me that I wasn’t. Somehow, I guess she thought I needed that reassurance as it didn't matter to me. Though I never argued or questioned why or how I wasn’t ugly, I hadn’t cared quite enough but I thought I would take it from someone who I would define, based off the standards I’ve heard, as someone beautiful.

Speaking of which, I found there was nothing more beautiful and terrible than the feeling of a quiet space shuttle. The Benatar was noiseless. Quill, who I would only ever describe as outrageously fun, hadn’t played a single song since Gamora died. And this was far out of the ordinary. Unnerving mostly. The only sounds reminiscent of before is the quiet bickering of Quill and Rocket, the now lower voice of Groot from time to time, and Drax’s laughter. And it’s sad because even Drax’s laughter is lower. Quieter.

I had described it as sad, but also beautiful. Though I don’t find any of it good, there is beauty in the stillness. In the togetherness. Don’t get me wrong, I can feel rage and sorrow all throughout the room. It is my gift as well as my curse. But it is a beautiful curse to know. To feel. The aesthetic of the moment. The pulse of my companions. I can feel it, even without my hands on them, I can feel their voices crying and singing and being. It is beautiful, though very sad.

Quill says we need change and I think that’s good. Our new friend Thor had come to see us a few weeks ago, as nothing more than a visit, which was good since the first time we met was so grim. Even now, it is grim and that is because we lost Gamora.

He lost things too though. Despite finding a loophole and saving his brother, he hadn’t found a way to save all of Asgard. And with that, his good friend Heimdall. I saw the rage in his eyes the second he boarded the Benatar then, though it had softened now that his brother, Loki, was alive and well. I, within the split second I made physical contact with him, found the source of his rage did no go against the universe or Thanos or anyone but himself. He truly saw himself as a failed king. It was devastating.

Even then, with the liveliness that was Thor, despite everything, the entire universe was tainted. Quieter. Thor had noted this somewhere during the conversation, promising it would end.

“How?” Quill asked. The god smiled slightly, soberly. “Because I’m accepting your offer, Quill.”

About everyone on board the ship looked up in confusion, not knowing what they had offered the God of Thunder. It was clear the Quill had used a royal “we” in his conversation with Thor, which truly, was like him to do.

Quill then explained that he offered an invitation to Thor, along with whoever he needed to bring with him, to join them on the Benatar. This was news to everyone, though, it wasn’t completely rejected. Rocket was the first to have a problem with it, which surprised no one. What I found spectacularly surprising was that Quill had given the invitation, despite the way he had acted in the presence of Thor the first time.

“They’ll lock my brother up if we stay on earth. Apparently, Midgardians aren’t as forgiving as the people of Asgard were. It may be wise of them, though.”

That was guilt, I could tell. His brother may be his brother, but he had been part of Asgard’s destruction. What was troubling was that Thor didn’t blame Loki for that nearly as much as he had himself.

Rocket had the audacity to ask if Loki’s presence would result of all of our death’s, which Thor only responded to with a small smile. “I’d like to hope he has changed.”

“I’d like to hope you’re right.”

Though, Rocket’s personality was often cruel, it was just as much soft. He wasn’t trying to reach a sore spot with Thor just for kicks. It was only his nature to point things out. To question. And more than that, he wasn’t a fan of new people. He needed to cover all his bases to be sure things wouldn’t end as it had with Gamora. Rocket, despite his reputation, was incredibly protective of his crew.

“Loki will behave himself. I have learned to predict his movements.”

“As you did with the Tesseract?” Rocket asked.

Thor looked down, trying to answer the raccoon effectively. “I can’t say I was surprised.”

Rocket sighed loudly. Obnoxiously. It was intentional, only to be dramatic. “Can’t be any worse than Nebula.”

Coming out from behind the shadow, where she had been perched, Nebula sighed. “I’m offended,” she said dryly, not at all offended.

Clearly our little family was about to get more crowded, which made me a bit uneasy. New people did that to me sometimes, just as my current crew had at first. It was just with my powers, I couldn’t just meet new people. I had to learn them. Know them. Without touching them, I could see worlds in their eyes. I could feel worlds in their eyes. And each person, no matter the species, was complex. Drax was nothing like Quill. Nebula was nothing like Gamora. I was nothing like Groot. And these new people, Thor included, would likely be nothing like me. I was excited to learn these people, but afraid I didn’t want to.

Nebula had scared me at first, though not as much as Ego. She was at first glance cold. Her thoughts seemed just as mechanical as most of her body. It scared me quite a bit, to see a brain overload in such a way. But I learned quickly that her robotic nature was routine. Her coldness was grief. I learned that with certainty after Gamora’s death. Now I found a few of her soft spots, though sometimes they were small. Sometimes it would be her thinking about things when she thought she was alone. Sometimes it would be the dull half smile she gave as she looked at something beautiful in space. And sometimes it would be the silent acceptance she had given when they had told her she could stay with them. Sadly though, to myself who wanted to learn more about her colors, she had left. She had become good friends with a man named Tony Stark who had promised to help her find more suitable technology that would make her feel more human. After much thought and argument with him, she had agreed. And though she said she would return, we all knew she wouldn’t. And now five years had past and Tony was dead, but she had grown fond of earth. She decided to stay a bit more.

But it took time to figure her out, and likely, it would take time to figure out these new faces. I won’t deny the terror of that, knowing I was often easily overwhelmed by the emotions they would bring. Knowing so much about people hurt quite a bit and the more people present, the worse it felt. But with that, excitement prevailed. I was thrilled to know more about Thor. I was delighted to meet Loki.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to think when the group first arrived. Thor did most of the talking and Loki seemed a bit quiet, though something about his eyes screamed that it wasn’t really his nature. Not anymore.

What convinced me that this was a turn for the better was what had happened a few hours later, when Thor was sitting beside Quill in the cockpit, talking about some of the things he had learned during his few months on earth.

“I was introduced to this music group by the name of Led Zeppelin. A bit of an acquired taste, I think.”

“Not really,” Quill said, sighing. “I can play some if you want.”

And that was when things changed. Not completely, of course. The music wasn’t as common as it used to be, and often, the songs Quill would choose weren’t as positive as they once were, but the point was that he was playing music again. And I could only thank Thor for that one.

_Stairway to Heaven_ was blasting through the ship's speakers as I fell asleep that first night, wrapped up in the blanket Drax had dug up for me the first time I stayed on the Benatar. It was ugly and green and yellow and worn out, but it was soft, and it smelled like my friends. Now I couldn’t sleep without it.

I remember very distinctly, falling asleep to this song, with Quill humming softly and Thor listening with quiet delight. Rocket had a drink in the back, with Loki watching with disinterest, with his finger in the crease of the book he was reading. Drax had crashed in his seat and Groot was playing a game on his device. And I, I was at peace, knowing that these new friends would, if nothing else, at least be memorable.

 

_When will I feel this As vivid as it truly is,_

_Fall in love in a single touch,_

_And fall apart when it hurts too much?_

Sleeping At Last / Touch 


	2. Two: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki arrives on Benatar and meets the Guardians.

Who whom the gods love dies young.

-Menander 

Two

Loki

 

Originally, I hadn’t been thrilled at the thought of spending my days with the group of imbeciles that Thor had illustrated. They sounded outright brainless, even more so than the Avengers, which spoke volumes. Even so, I didn’t have plenty of options besides that, unless, of course, I wholly cast aside my brother once again all to make a name for my myself on my own terms. And frankly, in most ways, there was little I desired to do more than just that. And I truly would have, if not for my brother’s recurring pleas.

“Come on, brother. Just once, it can be you and me on the same side. Is that not what you want?”

And of course, I wanted that. In spite of what the entire universe supposed of me, I did not find real pleasure while opposing my brother. Not for the sheer existence of it. I’ll confess, my whole life has been assembled atop my apprehension and resentment, but none of it is still aimed toward my brother. Not presently. Somewhere amidst the proceeding days, my jealousy abated, and now, I am a liquid deity. I can hardly call to mind a time when I truly despised Thor.

The additional recognition that drove me toward my brother’s request was that of my past. In the face of my craftiness and capabilities as a sorcerer and a combatant, I had met quite a few missteps in my judgment. With even genuine intentions, I had frequently made choices by utilizing my resentment or temper or even love. I had become tied up within myself in the actions, and other people suffered for my double-dealing. And more than anyone, had I done so to Thor. Due to my countless missteps, I no longer have the capacity to rely on my own mind. It would be preferable to live a dull existence with minuscule enthusiasm than to be Loki and demolish the world seeing that I have no dominance over my own body.

The reality that my brother has offered me the invitation at all was a tribute to his good nature, more merciful than I had ever needed or wanted from him. I substantial piece of me would have been satisfied with a hushed farewell and the knowledge of being loathed, but yet, my brother has prevailed. He has me in his grasp, which I frequently turn from, but even now, even after everything that has happened, I can’t drag myself away anymore. I’m so worn. I require a change. I require something completely new.

And of course, I can’t remain on Midgard. Thor hadn’t considered everything. He should have known the FBI, S.H.I.E.L.D., and every familiar and unfamiliar intelligence agency on the earth would come after me. Concealing myself in a spare room at Stark Tower was becoming a bit too flimsy of a safe house, despite the Avengers remaining loyal only due to Thor’s endeavors. Most of them would have done their best to have me transported to as far away from New York as attainable.

Though, I will concede it wasn’t all dreadful. I had roomed with another mortal who they claimed required to stay secluded until his name was cleared, so I wasn’t all alone in every way. He said his name was Bucky, which he didn’t regularly seem too self-confident about. But he was pleasant and easy to speak to, also had some wits about him, but he was quite temporary. A few weeks back, he had come out of hiding, needing not to stay in the room with me anymore. Now he spent his days with Sam, who had slowly earned his trust over the passing weeks. He came to visit me a few times after that, but it wasn’t the same. I was no longer content with the vacant room and my books. Thor was correct. We were in need of a change.

In due course, I had given into Thor’s wishes while venturing to accept that I was entirely opposed to this option. “I will regret this.”

“Maybe,” he declared. “Or maybe you’ll make a friend.”

I sneered. “I am not concerned with friendship.” Why would I be, being that I had never had a real friendship to begin with?

“What about these last few days? Are you not friends with Bucky?”

How could I express to him how much more demanding friendship was to me than it was to him? I nearly apologized for not being a natural extrovert, but I concluded I shouldn’t squander my breath. Even being what some may consider bold or outgoing, true social communication repelled me. Allies, sure. People to use and/or work with. Okay. But friends? I didn’t even contemplate the probability these days.

“James,” I clarified, “was a companion I enjoyed the company of. We bonded over murder and knives, but he was not my friend, alright? Soon he will conclude visiting entirely and he will forget me entirely and I will no longer be a part of his world at all, alright.”

“That is quite a negative outlook,” he told me.

I shook my head. “I’m a realist.”

Thor decided he wouldn’t persuade me otherwise, though it wouldn’t stop him from trying later, I had no doubt. “Perhaps you’ll appreciate the Guardians. They’re chaotic, erratic. I imagine you’ll get along well with them.”

“Or perhaps I’ll die young because of their stupidity.”

He examined me with a faint frown, almost furious that I would make fun of something like death, considering he had watched me die, not once, but three times now. “Are you coming or not?”

I had already packed a little bag, mostly of books I had swiped from one of Midgard’s libraries and a couple of pointless mementos I would never dare to admit mattered. I had been waiting in an almost black, green battle-ready ensemble for the last two hours. All the indignation and protest I felt in my spirit was weakening because I had already made my mind up. And silently, I accompanied him outside.

I was unimpressed by the Benatar as well as most of the people in it, but I tried my hardest to keep an open mind. Thor had already built a bond with Rocket, who was some sort of animal but not a rabbit as Thor had told me, and Groot, who was a Floral Colossus. As for Groot, I was enraged with myself for passing by a certain elective during my education, contrasting my brother who had taken the course for the sheer delight of studying, as he put it, “the language of the trees!” I had been educated in multiple ways of speech myself, reasoning I would never have the need to speak, well…tree.

Surveying the ship to see the rest of its crew, I concluded who I would and who I would not get along with. And it was a bit unfortunate that I established in seconds that I wouldn’t be friends with any of them.

Drax could be passable, I supposed if I was anyone but myself. He could at least be a source of entertainment. More importantly, he would also be easy to deceive since he takes everything literally.

I have nothing against Rocket or Groot. Groot, despite being a “teenager,” may somehow be the most intelligent on the entire spacecraft.

Quill doesn’t seem like my sort of companion, but I will aim to keep him on my good side since he appears to be the captain of this group, though, Thor seems to believe its leader is Rocket.

And then there is Mantis, who eagerly introduced herself to me the second I boarded the ship. She extended her hand, which I met as briskly as possible before letting go. This was primarily because of what Thor had informed me about her on the way there, letting me know that she was an empath. I didn’t desire that my every sentiment and passion be displayed in front of all of my potential new friends, as well as my brother. As well as myself.

She appeared nonplussed by my distaste for her touch and went on to tell me about herself and how enlivened she was to have new friends, which was bizarre since I knew for a fact that friendships were barely born in a day. I assume it was difficult to take her seriously for multiple grounds. At first glance, I had thought Mantis was a child. Not because of her appearance exactly, but because of the way she beamed and the eagerness that conducted it.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said impassively, keeping my hands at my sides and a considerable space between myself and the girl. As I stood, awaiting what she would do next, I watched her face fall from elation to unsureness. And then, understanding.

“My abilities outside of battle are strictly for observation. I’ve learned, due to the Guardians, that it is not polite to announce another person’s feelings.”

“Though it is funny,” I heard from Drax passing.

I took a breath, daunted by my stress about her abilities.

Needless to say, I wasn’t overjoyed about the new arrangement. I won’t claim though that I had not missed being in space. Being above the earth. The Mortals. Not because of superiority or any other nonsense, but just because space was home. Now we were closer to Asgard. Closer to the sea where my mother was wisped away into infinity. Closer to the gardens where Thor and I used to run. Even if it was all ash now, it still survived my mind. It wouldn’t leave me.

Now that it was us again in space, I had the opportunity to set things right between Thor and myself.  And after such a long time, I can’t say I opposed it. In truth, I love Thor just as I would if we shared blood, and I know, in spite of my recurring uncertainty, that he feels the same. In any case, there is this ceaseless harassment. This perpetual ringing in the back of my head, telling me that my brother’s end will come because of me, since death, no matter how far I run from it, follows my direction. I may be the God of Mischief, but I feel like the Grim Reaper.

For such a long time I believed I had been the only one immune to my curse, as I wandered across worlds and cheated death more times then I told truths. But one day, my sins found me, and my nightmare came to life, only to break me one last time. The moves the Avengers made to avert that devastation ending up rescuing me, but I remember it still. It lives in my brother’s memory, and by default, after he showed me, my own. Now I haunt myself as I rehearse it. I will never make my death a lie again, not for my brother to believe. I had never known how vastly it had mattered until I saw that memory, and now, I am beginning to know how significantly I’ve mattered to him all along.

So I will endure whatever adventure Thor desires if it means I can make up for this, by any means at all. It is not my only objective, but I wouldn’t mind it. And truly, I had never had a genuine opportunity to make a friend since before it all. Since before the day I watched my arm turn blue with frost on the land of Jötunheimr. And if I make a friend, perhaps I will find pleasure in that. And if I don’t, maybe I will at least have Thor.

The one thing, which has devoured me for quite an immense portion of my existence, is the hunger for the throne. It lives inside of me and it does not fade. Not perfectly, anyway. Over the years, yes, I have lost it. Getting the chance to rule Asgard has lessened it. I got what I had wanted, and it hadn’t been all that I thought. Granted, the entire point of my rule over Asgard was to pose as Odin and conceal myself from Thanos, so the incessant unease didn’t leave much room for satisfaction.

Among all of this, I had been pondering in a closed-off space toward the rear of the ship, bothered by the babbling of its inhabitants and their childish humor. It had no wit. No thought. It was just mindless gag after gag, with laughter only to occupy space. I was so intent on my desire to escape it that I had forgotten that I had. I was only made aware that I was still on the ship when I felt a finger brush my back, causing me to instinctively pull myself away.

She looked apologetic when I met her face, seeing that I was disturbed by her company, more so the surprise of it than it at all. “Sorry,” she communicated, looking down at her feet.

I hadn’t perceived how very vividly by body language expressed rejection until I looked to my hands and noticed I had them lifted as if I was caught a criminal, and more than that, my expression hadn’t changed from firm displeasure for a near thirty seconds. I tried to drop it, loathing my own trepidation that had made me on edge, wanting nothing more than to let my arms fall loose and my breath to fall steadily. But plainly, the Loki who did that, the Loki with glorious purpose had banished my body, and now I was that hesitant child again. This was the Loki that was incapable of making a friend. The same Loki I had always been.

“It’s alright,” I managed, my hands falling to my sides in a more casual position. I half wondered if my position made me look like a hunter, while the other half made me assume I resembled the prey. “Do you require anything?”

Her smile, which was nowhere near tame, gleamed my direction for a moment, which she straightaway adapted into an earnest stare that was still not far from ecstatic. She was eager for unknown motives to interact with me. Though I knew nothing about her, my intuition told me that her eagerness to know me had little to do with me and certainly everything to do with her.

“No, nothing,” she claimed, her voice little. “I just thought you might be lonely.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel touched or irritated by that statement, but the sheer innocence in her tone made me alarmed, knowing that this was the sort of person I wouldn’t want to make sad. It was somewhat because of the fragility which I presumed she had. Another part, because even I had more heart than to wound someone with such naïve tenderness.

But still, I replied. “Oh, no. I’m not lonely.” And it was true, somewhat.

She grinned uncomfortably, for me anyway, and extended a hand toward me, though not to really touch me. “I don’t have to touch you to know that is a lie. I’m very good at reading people.”

“Really?” I queried, my voice laced with sarcasm, making an effort to humor her. “And what is it you understand about me, then?”

She reached her hand toward me more so now, which I answered to with a gesture of my hand, as if I was swatting away a bug. It wasn’t really my goal to do so, but that’s how it happened. She didn’t seem to notice. “No powers,” I spoke softly. “Just your…abilities.”

Suddenly, her enormous eyes, neither monstrous nor appealing, caused her to resemble an owl. It would have looked like a dead stare if her eyes weren’t sparkling in this unusual wonder that caused me to lift one eyebrow in question. But she moved along, studying me deeply. I wasn’t entirely certain why I was allowing her to do this, but I figured if she did discover any skeletons in the closets by peering at my outward appearance alone than I should remain wary of her. If she could do nothing or very little, I could no doubt avoid her well enough to remain on the ship. Though candidly, even alone with only her, I wasn’t confident that I wanted to hear things about myself that I may fancy not to know.

“You look tired,” she said straightforwardly, scanning me cautiously as I observed her, unimpressed. “And anxious…”

I rolled my eyes.

“And bitter,” _brilliant, really._ “So, so bitter.”

I was certain she was about to go on, but I didn’t feel like hearing more. Not, of course, because she had distressed me by revealing that me, Loki, was bitter. _Shocking, really. I don’t know how she made such a deduction._

“Good bitter,” she said, sighing.

“Good bitter? Interesting. I’m impressed.”

She looked up again, eyes beaming. “Really?” she asked, her smile gigantic.

Of course, she hadn’t noted the sarcasm in my compliment, but I decided to let her remain jovial and reassure her of her brilliance. “Yes, of course,” I said with only a little sarcasm.

She continued watching me, looking incredibly fascinated.

“Mantis?”

Her smile swelled “Yes?”

“You said I was lonely,” I said calmly.

“You _are_ lonely,” she confirmed, her voice aggressive and poised. “That’s why you are hiding. The only place more lonely than alone is alone with strangers.”

I wasn’t about to shut down the thought, because more than giving another sarcastic reaction, what she had said did make sense. I had many times found more solace in the isolation of a room than in the company of a stranger, friends, and even family. Growing up, I hadn’t taken part in anything requiring frequent social interaction, because I claimed, I simply did not like people. After a few years when I was younger, I considered myself done with the other children, and locked myself up in the library, studying the ancient texts my mother had allowed me to read. It was less lonely there than it was in the classes and the extracurriculars. Still somewhat lonely, of course, but better. It was something I never stopped doing.

It was something I noticed over the years, about being alone. It was never exactly happy, but it wasn’t rejection, and somehow that was better. It had to take a lonely person to understand that.

It could only mean one thing. “I guess that makes you lonely too then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came a lot quicker than expected. I hope this continues but I can't make any promises. For now, it will be at least every other week, but mostly every week. I really hope you like the chapter. I adore Loki as a character, as well as Mantis, and I really want to do them both justice but I could never achieve the abilities of the amazing writers and directors of these movies. But I'm trying my best. I'd really appreciate honest opinions if anyone feels like the characters are off or out of character. I'm always trying to improve.  
> The next chapter will again by in Mantis' point of view. Have a wonderful day.


	3. Three: Mantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki explains to Mantis why mattering is overrated.

**Three**

Mantis 

_For the loneliness will stay with me_  
_And hold me till I fall asleep_

_-The Lonely, Christina Perri_

I hadn’t thought I was lonely until he said that I was, and even then, I had to think about it for a moment. Had to reach my jumbled self and sort out what he had even said at all. I was still learning him and wasn’t sure I had the capacity for me as well, since the concept of me was far more detailed than any other specimen, being that I was, in fact, me. But yet he said it, and I couldn’t stop myself from agreeing since I had learned before that it was easy to recognize emotions in other people that already remained in myself.

  
Just as my humor erupted through Drax’s and my rhythm came forth through Quill’s, my loneliness came forth on my first-day meeting Loki. It was an instant gut feeling when I saw him, without much strain, to know so simply that he was lonely. Beyond that even, but I wasn’t prepared to scare him away with how far my perceptions went.  
But then he had challenged me, which was difficult because even then I knew there was so much more. What was good about it was the overload, and due to it, I could not process it all. Of course, it was all in his eyes, but I was afraid to divulge too deep. Loki was new, and I wanted him to stay, if not for me and my friends or his brother, then maybe for himself. He deserved to be something other than lonely.

To my surprise, Loki wasn’t attempting to argue his own loneliness. To be fair, I don’t think he feared this revelation much in the presence of me. Not due to trust or anything like that, but because he hardly knew me. He didn’t value my opinions and likely, as it was common, he didn’t even take me seriously at all. Or I thought he hadn’t, up until he came back at me and made the same accusation that I had made of him.  
“I guess that makes you lonely too then.”

I was hesitant to answer because honestly, I didn’t feel lonely. Not really. I had friends here who I could confide in. Laugh with. Bond with. I wasn’t alone if that’s what he was implying. Of course, I knew better than to think alone and lonely were even the same thing. I wouldn’t have called a crowd more lonely than an empty room if I hadn’t understood the concept. Regardless, I wasn’t sure how I was lonely if I didn’t feel alone, but still, I knew it was true. I knew it with every fiber in my being.

“Yes,” I said, releasing something I didn’t know I was holding. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he echoed, with a slight mock in his tone, but his face did not follow that mood. I was positive he was being kind.

The one thing that was weighing on my mind, which I had observed about him before, was a single word that I had weighed in myself also. I wasn’t going to say it to his face, but I felt it the second I saw him, even if the two of us were far from the only ones who fit the category on the ship. It felt more defined in Loki, and more impactful to the course of his life and his personality as a whole, and it was heartbreaking.

_Orphan. Orphan. Orphan._

“What is it?” he asked, seeing the word forming on the tip of my tongue, that I wouldn’t dare point out to him. It would be no use to his goodwill, but it did matter. It mattered because it made him. It made me.

“So, you are Thor’s half-brother?” I asked, trying not to sound too nosy.

Without hesitation, he surprised me a bit. “Not even that.”

“Not even that,” I said, but I didn’t ask a question. I didn’t really need to know.  
He bit his lip for a moment, as he thought to himself. “And you?”

Orphan.

“Ego…my, well…”

He looked up, eyebrows raised.

“I was found in my larva state by Ego, abandoned on my homeworld, so he raised me as his own. Though, on second thought, he didn’t raise me as his child. He raised me as his, well, slave, I guess.”

When I glanced back at Loki, I could see it in the way his lips were firmly pushed together, and eyes focused on my words more than my face, that he was listening. That he was there.

Orphans.

We were the orphans, along with Drax, Rocket, Quill, Groot, and Thor. But I guess the difference between them, and then me and Loki, was that they didn’t carry their orphan identity anymore. They moved passed theirs, and the two of us, hardly even acknowledged we had them.  
A wanted to say more, ask more…but I knew very well of my tendency to scare people away. I could see in his expression that he had questions too, but I didn’t feel the need to go into it, with Ego and the complications of the situation that takes more than a few moments to explain. So we left it like that. I left him to his book and I went to tend to my plants, which had recently become my hobby for the long hours on the Benatar.

Thor, who I can only describe as an absolute delight to have on board, talked to me a bit later, giving me a bit more background on him and his brother.

“Loki and I have always been different. When I was out making a mess of things, he was the one in his room reading. It’s how we are. How we’ve always been. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our ups and our downs, but alas, he remains my brother. He keeps me grounded, as I keep him.”

“He seems nice,” I said.

Thor smiled as if he was keeping much behind his words. “He is.”

And nice, which was the word I used, I felt more and more sure was incorrect in quite a few ways. It’s not to say that Loki was not, in fact, nice. He truly is. But what I didn’t know was that he didn’t always remain so. Not completely. He was darker than I knew. Darker than anyone knew, and with that, sad. Lonely. His orphan heart was the only thing I knew well enough to understand, only because I had an orphan heart too. And this whole thing. This whole person was incredibly fascinating. All I knew was that I wanted to know more.

“And he was adopted?” I asked, which Thor frowned at. “That’s what he said, before, when I talked to him.”

Thor seemed to relax. “Yes, he was born of The Frost Giants. But he is Asgardian.”

I could see Loki approaching us from the other end of the ship. He glanced at me for a moment before placing his eyes on his brother.  
“Brother,” Thor responded, looking away from me.

Loki had his hands latched behind his back, as he often did. It was as if he needed to hide them there. There was something oddly mischievous about it like he was hiding a dagger. But he didn’t look all that mischievous, only calm and quiet. “Where are we headed?”

“I don’t know,” Thor responded, glancing at the window.

“We usually don’t,” I explained, standing up. “If we don’t have a specific job we wish to take or a planet we want to save, we relax. We listen to music. Go exploring. Laugh. There’s no rush.”

Loki stood silently for a moment, seeming slightly bothered by this. Maybe he was tired of solitude.

“Would you like to do something?”

Thor turned to me, offering me a small smile. “What do you have in mind?”

“We could play a game. Peter has a bunch from the earth in the back. I could get a few.”

I turned to Loki who was dead quiet. He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then he glanced at Thor and cleared his throat. “I think I’ll pass,” he whispered, unlatching his hands letting them fall to his waist. “I have a book I’ve been reading…,” he trailed off, almost desperate to get away.

I would have continued to ask him or curiously ask what book he was reading, but again, I didn’t want to freak him out. And trust me, despite the confidence remaining in his eyes, he had a nervousness about him. His every movement was a bit unsure like he was treading on land he wasn’t supposed to.  
“Okay,” I said, going to get the games for just me and Thor. I knew it wouldn’t be near as fun with just two people, so I figured I’d ask Drax or maybe Groot to join in. Even so, I was disappointed in Loki’s response.

I tried with great persistence to avoid my curiosity, knowing he was tired now of being transparent. If I had to guess, he had forced honesty from himself at some time, and that honesty is what made him a liar. I know well enough what a liar is. What a liar looks like. But with him, though he bears the name of a liar, I think he’s honest. Violently so. The problem is that he is biased, even to his own lies, and the ones he believes. At the end of all time, though the universe may know Loki as a liar to the people, I know with much certainty that he lies to nobody more than himself.

A few days later, I attempted to bring this to light, interrupting his quiet solace, not with any attempt to disturb other than my genuine curiosity, and also, compassion. “So you’re the God of Mischief?”

Loki, quietly gazing at the nearby shower of stars, sighed aloud. His silhouette nearly covered the window’s frame. He looked so confident.

But I knew he was not.

“What’s so bad about mischief?”

I smiled. “I never said there was anything wrong with it.”

“But you still asked the question. I bet you want to know how many lies I’ve uttered since I’ve entered this ship.”

I met his gaze by the window. “You haven’t said all the much, though.”

Standing up straighter, and looking a bit cocky, he said, “that’s the plan.”

And then he turned away, taking a step toward the shadows, where the lamp could not reach.

“Don’t be fooled, however. I am and always will be a liar.”

His voice had turned a bit, but he was glistening. He was transparent. He was a ghost.

“Why?” I asked.

His laugh was that of a trickster, as he turned again, his eyes the only thing standing out from the shadow. “You cannot trust me.”

“I don’t,” I said, biting my lip. “I won’t. I don’t trust…that easily.”

“And what of the Guardians?”

And suddenly I was admitting something I never had before, in the open air. “I love the Guardians, but I don’t trust them. I used to love Ego too, and I know trusting him made me a fool.”

It hit a nerve, I could see, as he unveiled himself a bit more, so that I could see the side of his face like a shadow against the window. “Mantis,” he said, his voice hard. “What were you to him?”

“A daughter,” I whispered, but then I shook my head. First slowly, then harder. “But, no, I was never that.”

“And if not that?”

“I told you before, I was his servant. A slave.”

He sighed again, working through something. Working past something.

“But I don’t matter.”

“Why would you think you don’t matter?” he asked.

It was easy. “Because I don’t.”

Some people would then respond to a statement like this with some sort of protest. With a simple, “That’s not true! How could you think that?” Or maybe, they would at least shake their head and then proceed to explain that they thought that person mattered. But no. Not Loki. Loki was ironical. A bit too honest.

“There’s no point in mattering Mantis. They expect too much of you. They give you responsibilities. They trust you. Those aren’t things you should strive for.”

I laughed lightly. “And why not?”

He was bittersweet. “Because if you don’t meet those fixed standards, you are somehow not great anymore. You are all chained up. Without them, you are free. Free to fail and they don’t have a say to say it’s so.”

I’ve been learning so much about different people. Beauty is not what I thought. Neither is mattering, it seems. Though, I feel like I constantly come in contact with people with extraordinary understandings of the way the universe works. And to this, I would never complain. I have never wanted to think like the normals.

“Oh,” I responded, thinking it over a bit. “Do you matter?”

It was such an odd question to ask a person. I’m not even sure why I said it, but I think, he understood that it was an indirect compliment. After all, he himself had made the idea of not mattering sound like a great victory.

“I think maybe I used to. Maybe not anymore.”

Then I asked him a question that was already laced with a lie. “So, you’re happy then?”

He became silent, still a silhouette in the window. The only thing keeping him from blending in with the sky were the stars. He sighed aloud, as if annoyed, but kindly so.

“No, I’m free. Not happy. There’s a difference.”

“So how do you become happy?” It was a genuine question, that I knew not the answer to. Of course, like most people, I was aware of what glimpses and moments of happiness entailed. I have laughed so hard that tears had come from my eyes. I have spent hours in what I can only describe as bliss. But still, it always remains temporary. The laughter dies down. The bliss becomes mediocre. At some point, I wish to be content in just stillness. In just my lonesomeness. But yet, I find myself longing. Aching. For what? I have no idea. I highly doubt it’s something such as love as much as it is inner confidence. A love for myself that results in a comfortable peace. The word I’m searching for, beyond happiness, I think is joy, but as of now, I think it’s too abstract.

And finally, he said it. “I don’t know.”

And suddenly, I had created a purpose for myself.


	4. Four: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions

**Four**

**Loki**

_"If he's vulnerable, you'll never see it. If he's telling the truth, you'll never know."_

_\- Tom Hiddleston_

__

Thor had avoided telling the Guardians about me since the instant we entered the vessel. If I didn’t know better, he was ashamed of who his brother had become, but to my own sincere revelation, I had confidence that he was endeavoring to do the contrary. Observably, he had expounded to the crew limited elements of my past, but being so distant from the earth, word hadn’t been spread far enough for them to have the knowledge of New York. It was apparent they didn’t know about me sending the Destroyer to assault my brother or my numerous ploys to take control of the throne. They were aware of my behaviors in the prior timeline, in relation to Thanos, which only served as an account as to how I was now animated in present day despite not being so before. But as far as they were aware, I was merely a trickster. Barely a villain of any sort.

This all came to light when I was speaking with Mantis, who I won’t declare just yet has piqued my curiosity. It’s not exactly that I like her company, but in spite of being the incarnate epithet of naivety, I realized that she was reasonably sensible. Her brain was not fixed on the arranged principles of the cosmos, due to her being so uneducated, but it also made it simple to mold her. To which I would struggle to not take advantage of.

As for my brother, I knew he was leaving out truths when I was speaking to Mantis, who had yet again created a tactic to trail me and surround me with her inquiries.

“If you’re the God of Mischief, why do you spend all your time reading books and isolating yourself?”

I heaved a sigh, not in the temperament for this sort of banter. I had been telling myself that this “isolation” served as an insurgency from intermingling with the rollicking cluster of nobodies on the other side of the ship. It was a suitable tall tale that I could blame on vanity, being that I was plainly beyond whatever pursuits were taking place with my brother and those idiots.

“Are you trying to not be the God of Mischief?”

Well, that was quite attentive, to say the least, which in fact, she was not incorrect. However, my lips would not strengthen that certainty any sooner than my behaviors would. Not now. Not after everything. She was accurate to suppose that even I, Loki, could grow fatigued of being Loki. Or, at least, the madness of it all. Mischief in itself, it was a bit trying to see.

“There are ways to change without changing who you are.” She chose to voice as if she had been eavesdropping on my contemplations, which was outright insanity. She wasn’t telepathic.

It was becoming obnoxious that she assumed she understood so much about me when I had told her so little. It didn’t concern me that she was an empath. She couldn’t know me. She never could. And more vitally, she couldn’t fathom where I was coming from. “Well, maybe you don’t know me that well then.”

“You’re right,” she murmured, appearing apologetic. But curiosity still flooded her features and she wasn’t exactly departing.

I resolved to humor her. “What if who you are is a liar? What if that’s actually your name?”

“Why would a name matter?”

What mattered more than a name? It was the immediate foundation of self that existed amongst a child and their parent. A surname making the child their own, and their forename the chosen opinion that the parent had of their child. Even with irresponsible parents who did little research, most were not so careless, even if they, in fact, did not care for their child. Some were dreadfully purposeful in their naming, even going as far as damning a child. This, of course, could not be understood by a girl with the name of “Mantis.” Her name, meaning prophet, did not quite damn her in any way. But, however, the name Loki…the name Loki had predestined me from the day I was conceived to be an abysmal being.

“A name could change your entire life,” I told her simply, listening to the name Laufey ricochet in my memory.

_Odinson,_ I breathed back. _You are an Odinson. By connection to your brother, and your mother, and with much endurance, even your father._

She stirred her head. “Only if you let it.”

And that, I had done again and again. I had begun a war because of two names, that being Laufeyson and Odinson, and to what end? To what goal? Recognition that I would never get? Belonging that must exist somewhere?

The Midgardians who wrote about our supposed “mythology” had said the legend of Loki. I, a man who became more malevolent with time until the gods had no option but to restrain him to a rock. And they had said that name may mean “to break.” But I am sorely aware of the truth. I’ve grown in the truth. The truth submerged within a multitude of deceptions.

“Well, then I let it.”

She stood reflectively, clasping at something to reassure me that a name could not define me, but she looked on vacantly. “What is so bad about mischief? What is so bad about lies?”

I nearly laughed at this. This girl, Mantis, who was so naïve, had just asked me how those things could be bad. Her!

“Absolutely nothing,” I said, finally. “If you want to spend your entire life alone.”

And then she stood again, quietly watching me with this intrigued look on her face. If she did not have the kindest face I had ever seen, save that of my mother’s, I would have felt like a lab rat being scrutinized. Unlike me, the last thing on her mind was mischief, and the last thing she intended to do was cause trouble. She was simply curious. Simply kind.

“You look awfully bored.” It was something I could not deny. That’s why I spent every waking hour reading. I had to entertain myself some way if I wanted to avoid slipping into a coma completely due to my own boredom.

“Your brother told me about all the tricks you played on him.”

I laughed a bit. “Not all of them, I’m sure.”

“No, but he said enough. He said it made you happy. You have every right to be happy.”

How could I explain to her how fleeting that happiness had been? How I hardly even wanted to be me anymore?

And also, how dare she tempt me so. How dare she somehow give me permission to be myself. I had grown tired of the endless cycle of failure. I had grown tired of being either dark or light. But more than that, I was tired of being dormant. Tired of being quiet for the sake of my brother’s approval. I would do such a thing no longer.

“Don’t tempt me,” I whispered, trying to rid myself of the thrill that was rising up in my throat, about to spew out. But with her quiet permission, that knew nothing of how dangerous it could be, could very easily latch onto me. I could remove myself from my own silent promise and be enthralled once more by my madness. I could do it so easily, once my mind let me. Once my own shaky hands stopped gripping onto the pure hope of redemption. Of being something to my brother again.

I concede, gripping onto that promise, shaking my head. “Not tonight,” I say, scared that I even considered being that again. Being him, Loki, the monster from my dreams. The monster from the bedtime stories.

“If you’re certain,” she said, frowning. “You could try something new?”

“Such as?”

She looked around the room, grasping for ideas. Something that would pertain to me that she, a stranger, knew well enough. And I, though intrigued by her ways, was not about to give in to something that a girl like Mantis enjoyed.

“I like gardening,” she announced.

“Marvelous,” I said, turning away.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide.

I laughed aloud, shaking my head. “We always had servants to do all the gardening on Asgard. But it was nice to look at.”

“I think plants are beautiful,” she said, looking at me in a daze. “To plant a seed and then see it become a tree.”

“Trees die.”

She frowned, her antenna seeming to droop a bit. But the brightness in her eyes didn’t fade. I wondered if it was even possible for that to happen. But then again, it was almost painful to imagine. Cruel.

“After a very long time,” I added, shrugging.

Her eyes diverted away, a small smile emerging again. “What about art?”

Oh, art. It had been so long since I had even thought to do such a thing, but it felt like a familiar breeze. Nostalgia gripped me for just a moment, as I remembered the stack of messy sketches I used to keep pushed under my bed, of things I had never shown another person. Drawings of the things I saw in my dreams, and sometimes my nightmares. But mostly, with eyes of ambition, I drew my heart’s desires. Even if I didn’t understand what those desires would entail.

I swallowed. “Do you draw, Mantis?”

Her eyes lit up, almost in embarrassment. “I try to,” she began, her cheeks going pink. “But I try to draw what I see, and it’s never the same.”

“Ever try drawing what you don’t see?”

“Like a dream?”

“Or a wish.”

She watched me in silence, I could tell, as I glanced toward the window again, to somewhere off in space I could not recognize. Nothing ever seemed to be familiar anymore, not even myself. Or maybe I was bitterly familiar. Somehow younger. Reminiscent at least. I used to draw because I was hopeful, but I haven’t drawn for years.

“So art, then?” she asked, now holding a tiny brown book, which she must have picked up when I was looking away.

Ignoring her question, I reached for it. “What is that?”

She let it fall in my hand as if she was presenting me with a gift.

“It’s a blank book. I can’t draw anything. I don’t want to ruin the pretty book.”

I opened it, and sure enough, it was blank. Pages and pages of Mantis, stopping and changing her mind because she didn’t want to scar the blank pages. As I held it in my hand, I felt like it was the lightest thing I had ever touched. No life had been given to it yet.

“So it’s yours. You can make it beautiful.”

“But it’s yours.”

“It’s a gift.”

_A gift,_ I repeated to myself, finding it strange. To just be given something for no other reason than, well, just because. _A gift._ With no expectation in return. But yet, I held it, and suddenly there was weight. I needed to give something back.

Me, Loki, felt morally warped to not return this favor. To even accept it. But also torn at the thought that it would be crueler to refuse it.

“What makes you think I would make it beautiful?” I asked, my voice shaded with disgust and guilt. I had no talent. I had no beauty to give. So why me? Why hand this blank canvass over to me?

She paused, thoughtfully, as if she was biting back her words. But then she smiled, looked me in the eyes with something far too earnest for my liking. “Because _you_ are beautiful.”

I almost laughed. Well, actually, I did. Just a bit. It wasn’t meant to be hateful or obnoxious, but it was incredulous. It was full of disbelief. Not only because I knew her words were blatant lies, but because this girl I hardly knew thought she knew a single thing about me. Yet again, she tried this card, and I wasn’t buying it. It was almost funny. Pitiful. She was so pathetic, she would do anything to make a friend.

And I would do anything to prevent it.

The other side of me, which was still gripping the book with a quiet thrill, was made to be a liar by my own contradicting thoughts. But all I could think of was what this book was.

An escape.

A distraction.

Another thing to hold back the Loki.

The Loki that I hated.

So I couldn’t say no. I could try to be artistic again. Maybe it would free me. Maybe it would kill me. Maybe I didn’t care. Maybe Mantis did know me well enough, after all.

When I looked in her direction, something told me she wasn’t changing her mind about my beauty.

“Okay,” I said softly, encompassing the tiny book in my hand. “I will try.”

But her wide eyes, with such earnest acceptance, proved my thought, that Thor has left things out. Mantis simply didn’t know. She thought I was beautiful. She thought I was good. Which meant, beyond doubt, that Thor hasn’t told them everything. They didn’t know who I really was underneath. And this was something I could not shake. I needed to talk to my brother.


	5. Five: Mantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of pleasant angst. Mantis uses her powers for the good of her friends.

**Five**

**Mantis**

_A drink for the horror that I'm in,_  
_For the good guys, and the bad guys,_  
_For the monsters in our beds_

_\- Sleep / My Chemical Romance_

__

The only light in the back of the ship was a subtle neon blue, much like the natural light of deep space and the blue tint of pitch black. In this blue, I could only see the shape of things. Even less so when they were still. But I knew where everyone was, in their own chosen places.

Myself, on the top bunk with Drax snoring bellow me, clearly in a deep sleep.

To my right is Quill on a pull out bed he had recently installed, with a new pair of earbuds pulled from his ears during sleep. I could hear the muffled song buzzing underneath his covers.

Next to him, in the nook, slept Rocket, curled up like he often did, with a relaxed expression that he only truly wore in sleep.

And Groot was still up beneath his covers on the floor, playing his game.

To my left, on the bottom bunk is Thor. He is silent with eyes looking above him, but he is wide awake. Constantly restless. Constantly thinking. About his people. His friends. Loki. I know it must be hard on him to nearly lose his brother so many times and yet to have him here. Their relationship was yet strained, but Thor just wanted to love him. Loki was much more cautious. I knew, from the way Thor’s eyes watched above, like a guardian angel, that he was listening to Loki’s breath. He needed to make sure it was steady. He needed to make sure it was real. Only then could he fall asleep.

And then Loki, on the top bunk, across from mine, was silent. His body was positioned so that his face was covered by his multiple blankets, hidden. It was interesting that he chose the top bunk since it had been across from mine. I had chosen this spot because I liked being up high where I could see everything. I think he liked his spot because it was hidden from everyone.

I tried not to watch my friends sleep too long. I was aware some would find it disturbing to know I observed for such pleasure, just to contemplate people. But I couldn’t help it at times. Sleep was special. Sleep was hard. It was such a vulnerable place for even the toughest people I knew, like Drax. Or the snarkiest, fiercest people, like Rocket. Here you could see the weight of the day rest on them, as they tried to remove it with rest. Sometimes they did so. Sometimes they didn’t.

It was not always this way, but tonight it was silent. Some people snored. Some breathed louder. Some moved in the bed every so often. But otherwise, it was quiet. I wondered if everyone was in deep thought. Or a deep dream. I wondered if I could make myself fall asleep at some point too, or if insomnia would remain forever.

The silence ended, just as a bed began to creak at the thrashing of person. I turned, and it was him. It was Loki.

Sometimes this would happen. People would get startled by their dreams.  Sometimes a nightmare would shake them up. Sometimes it stopped quickly. Sometimes it didn’t. This one didn’t.

I leaned onto my railing, surveying my surroundings. This was it. This was my purpose on this ship. It was something I could help. I looked down and saw Thor with eyes wide, ready to shake his brother awake. Understandably so, since the thrashing had turned to loud panting and choked back sobs.

I met Thor’s eyes, holding up a hand. “I’ve got this,” I whispered.

He decided to trust me, I suppose, when he laid back in his bed, eyes not leaving the bed above him. This time, though, his eyes were more focused than usual. They were filled with fear. He wasn’t going to sleep still until his brother did also.

I slid my way from one ladder onto the next, with quiet footsteps, which I had mastered in my many ventures to bring aid to my friends. Being initially clumsy, I had grown graceful. I had to after so many nights spent with my friends, who had suffered too much in their lives for any person to handle with sanity. I had immense pride at the thought of all of them.

When I did arrive to Loki, I looked over him for a moment, feeling pain in my chest at the way he looked. So fearful. So fragile. So alone. He lay now with his face somewhat exposed in its distress and his hands gripping his sheets as if they were the only thing keeping him from falling off the edge of the universe. Nothing of him lay still. He was in a panic.

So I took a deep breath, sat down beside him, and I reached out to touch his shoulder.

I had been afraid for a while of what I would find there. It hadn’t helped that he had refused my touch since the moment we met, and even now, I felt guilty for betraying his wishes. But any person would appreciate this. In fact, I was actually saving him from embarrassment.

Trying not to search too deep, with respect in mind, I whispered what I wished for him. I declared peace. I declared rest. Calmness. Relief. Sleep. I spoke to his soul. His emotions. I told them to calm, and they did, with time. Slowly, he stopped shaking. Slowly, his breath slowed pace. Slowly, slowly, he drifted off again. And off I went, leaving Loki in the blue neon glow.

On my way back to bed I met eyes with Thor, who mouthed a ‘thank you’ in my direction. His eyes were still struck with fear because he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help his brother and it broke him. It broke him to not know how to help. I decided to help him also.

Halfway up the ladder, I began walking in reverse, coming over to Thor who laid uncomfortably in his place. I smiled sadly, knowing the bed wasn’t exactly big enough for him. But I knew very well why he chose to sleep bellow his brother and I wasn’t about to point that out.

I sat down on the floor, letting the silence fill the room.

Thor leaned toward me so that he could whisper. “I honestly didn’t know what to do. I haven't heard him have a nightmare since childhood.”

“I know,” I said almost mutely. “That’s why I’m here. It’s my purpose.”

He nodded. “It’s a good purpose.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as he searched through his own turmoil for something to say. He had so much on his chest. So much weighing him down. But more than most of it, was his love for his brother. He felt guilty from the crimes in youth he had committed against Loki. He was sorry. So sorry. But he need not be. He was exactly where he needed to be. In fact, maybe he had more forgiveness for Loki than Loki deserved. But Thor would freely give it. That was clear. His thoughts were jumbled, I knew.

“You need sleep,” I told him, seeing the decline of his eyes and the darkness gathering beneath them.

He almost scoffed. “So do you,” he said, glancing at my face. I decided not to say anything, but he was right. It had been weeks since I had a good night’s sleep. It was difficult for me to settle down. I guess, I had this obsession with rehearsing what I knew of people, and their burdens, and then I made their burdens my own. I had empathy. That’s what it was. And slowly, I was becoming a little bit of every person I touched, and it quickly becoming enough to keep me awake at night.

But I wouldn’t say that. I ignored the question. “Let me help,” I said, extending a hand in his direction.

If it had been Loki, he would have pulled himself away. But this was Thor. Kind of lovable Thor. He smiled softly, rested his head on the pillow and smiled up at me. “Sleep well Mantis. You deserve it.”

I couldn’t help but appreciate that as I leaned toward him, extended my arm and told him to “sleep.’ If anyone deserved a good sleep, it was Thor.

So I turned on my heal and nearly flung myself into bed. I would likely lay there for hours in the memories of my companions, attempting to purge them while also loving their existence more than anything. And as for Loki, who I could still feel the horror-filled emotions of, would have to wait. I would not sleep if I attempted to sort them. I would also, with courtesy to Loki’s needs, try to forget them. If not for him, then for my own sleep.

But as I lay in bed, I felt the raw emotion of Loki and Thor swirling in the back of my brain, and in honesty, I was tired of giving only to get this. Well, yes, of course, I wanted to use my powers for good. But oh my, did it hurt. It hurt so horribly, and I couldn’t say why. I just hoped I would sleep some.


	6. Six: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki confronts Thor.

Six

Loki

_"We know what we are, but not what we may be."_

_-Hamlet_

__

I had no other choice but to confront Thor. It had been weighing heavy on my mind that he was keeping my flaws hidden from the crew and it made me weary for reasons I could not swallow. So the next day after I woke, I knew I needed to talk to him. And talking had never been my forte, not with honesty. These sorts of things were things I kept within myself, far too long until I could not hold them anymore. They then would usually result in some melodramatic act I could not trace back to my original issue if I dare try. By then, I had already lost myself in it, and I couldn’t turn from it.

But I was trying to change my ways, so maybe that included talking to Thor. Maybe that meant being honest. I do suppose I should be willing to give too so that our relationship can be something. I would be even more of a liar if I said that Thor had given me nothing over the years. In fact, I’m afraid now that he has given me too much trust, which I don’t feel I should be responsible for.

When I woke, I felt dreadful. Everything around me was drenched, and it was quite too muggy to breathe. I nearly fell from my bunk while attempting to draw myself from the cocoon of blankets I created the night before. After heaving myself up four separate times, and then changing my mind and drifting back to sleep, I finally pushed myself out, disregarding my throbbing head and staggering into the shower.

When I returned, I noticed that Thor had woken up and was almost examining me with anticipation. I lamented aloud, identifying that I couldn’t remove myself from this exchange if I aspired to. He was right there before me. I had reflected in the shower that I should undoubtedly let it go. Who cares what he told the Guardians, yes? But now he was resting there with a look I swore for a moment was pity.

I engulfed my breath. “Thor, what is it?” I demanded, vexing not to feel trepidation when he looked at me in that way. What could have happened? What could I have done?

“Nothing,” he said, his voice unflinching. “Are you alright?”

I nodded instantaneously. “Yes, of course.” I halted briefly. “I have an inquiry.”

“What is wrong?” 

Why must he presuppose that something is wrong? And why, oh why is he still scrutinizing me in such a way that he thinks I might fracture?

“What exactly did you tell the Guardians about me?” I probed, finding my voice insufferable as I asked. Insufferable that I minded. And insufferable was that look Thor hadn’t ceased to deliver to me. The judgment, I could only assume. To him, I was just small Loki, in urgent need of assistance.

 “I hope you know, I didn’t tell the Guardians everything about your past. I wanted you to have a clean slate.” And there it was! My assumption. My assumption that turned out to be 100% precise.

“A clean slate is a fantasy.” I joined my hands together behind my back, pressing myself to sit on the neighboring bunk. “There is no such thing as a clean slate.”

A fleeting moment of empathy swindled from Thor’s face, rotating into some kind of fury. His face shown in rage, for he assumed I was repressing myself from life. And genuinely, he did not know what it would take for me to become it, and then to feel it. Because it was not a physical thing in the slightest. It was not divorce from the captivity. It could not be wrapped up and absent in a white lie. No. It endured spiritually. Even Mantis could back me up on this ideal. She was a slave just as I.

“You’re enslaving yourself,” he imparted, his eyes expanding in more ire. I considered him, marveling about how he could love and yet hate me so much at one time. But this, in the face of the objections churning about my head, I could sense in his righteous ferocity, must be in love. It was startling.

I sighed away my various motivations for enslaving myself and decided to put it out there. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not? There is no way around it.”

My mind was misleading me again, though. Was this judgment? Was this sincere care? Somewhere I knew the answer, but I wanted to roar and cry and slit my brother to tatters for this. For this nothing.

“I assure you brother, I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need freedom from you. It isn’t something you can give.”

He nodded. “Not if you refuse to take it. But I’m sorry, brother. I’m torn up seeing you this way.” His wrath remained palpable still, and I felt nothing but balanced fury bursting forth in my stomach at his words. “I cannot stop myself from trying to protect you.”

“You never answered my question,” I alleged, not veiling my infuriation.

“What did I tell them?” he shook his head. “I told them nothing but the truth,” he verbalized this at once, beaming at me with antagonism behind it. “I told them you were my brother and that I lost you, but I got you back. I told them you’re wild and exceptional and impulsive and a bit rough around the edges. I told them you’re thoughtful and clever. I told them you’d be a great asset to their crew.”

I nodded, straining not to give into his gentleness. Straining not to let him loose. “Alright, but that’s a bunch of sentimental nonsense. I’m none of those things outside of rare occasions.” And with one breath, I endured. “Did you warn them, brother? Did you warn them of the infidelity that will follow? Of the demise that will befall them? Of the monster running loose on their ship?” I stood up, vehemence inflamed on my face, though my voice was composed.

“Loki, I didn’t need to!”

I couldn’t hear him. All I could hear were the monsters I knew. The monsters I persistently fed in my stomach. Now they pounded within my skin, threatening to drop out of my eyes and my mouth. Trust me, I did want to obliterate them, but I hated myself too much to believe I could earn it. I felt them pounding on my ribcage, so I charged on. I couldn’t allow them to escape me. I couldn’t let them, or myself, be free. “But did you tell them about New York? Did you tell them about the Destroyer? Did you tell them about what I did to Jötunheim?”

Thor was advancing toward me, now on his feet, prepared to quiet me with his hands. But I twisted away from his grasp.

“What about mother? What about me faking my death again and again for no other reason than simply because I wanted to?” My incredulous voice caused my brother to become stagnant. And so I continued, rehearsing the hundreds of times I had let down Thor. Rehearsing the times I had been brutal or inhuman. Rehearsing the individuals in my memory that I had manipulated with my staff. And Thor in due course became voiceless, taking a seat on the bed across from me with a firm and settled stare.

In time, I felt the breath abandon my lips and I heaved a loud, clenching my bed in a bid to gracefully return to my seat. All I knew was that talking was beginning to hurt, and that I was shouting, and that I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. So I sat for a minute gathering my breath, while Thor paused with a shattered expression on his face.

Suddenly, I could remember in full why I have never indulged in this kind of behavior before. Indeed, perchance it executed me gradually, preserving everything weighing on my chest for decades. Maybe I would never receive the one thing I truly needed. But yet, I could no feel any goodness at this moment. Not a shred of positivity. More than anything, if anything, this was humiliation. And that’s all it was. Nothing more. And it hurt, at least at this moment, so much more than it possibly could if I had kept it in my head. Or so I believed.

I consumed the sob swelling inside my throat and put my focus on the floor, which I could not focus on. Thor might have said something, but I could not hear him. All I could hear in my head was a burst of harrowing laughter.

Loki’s laughter.

“Did you tell them any of that?” I said softly, alarmed at how faint it rasped out.

My brother was studying me the same way he had once when we were kids. We had been out in the fields playing in the hills for hours, playing pretend and undoubtedly fighting over something senseless. We were running over this one hill that rose up over the meadows, but there was this drop on the one side that was hard to see if you weren’t right in front of it. Well, Thor had become livid over something that likely was my fault and had pushed me hard in the chest. As one could imagine, it resulted in me dropping backward over this slope, landing on the stone pathway. I had smacked my head and ended up screaming for my mother who was a good ten miles north. But I remember the horror in my brother’s eyes. He didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know what to say. He was just afraid for me. Afraid he had killed me.

And that’s exactly how he was looking at me right now.

When he didn’t say anything, I forced out a breath strong enough to bring my voice back. “What I mean,” I began, hating my voices sound. Hating my voices tremor. “What I mean is, I’m sorry.”

He looked to be in a daze for a moment, as he tried to hide the shock in his eyes. I guess it wasn’t so much that he was shocked I was sorry. He believed in me more than anyone else did. He had seen my worst and yet still believed in me. But his shock I suppose was there because he hadn’t expected to hear me say it. To actually apologize.

I was hopeful that he didn’t see the astonishment in my face either because an apology was never a part of my plan. But here it was spilling forth. Reasoning with Thor in the first place was because of my guilt, so maybe it was logical. Maybe I did want forgiveness. Real forgiveness that I accepted, outside of the kind Thor had almost always freely given. Even if it did take him some time.

“Apology accepted,” he said, with water glistening in the corner of his eye. I tried to pretend I wasn’t moved in the slightest by this exchange. I looked down as Thor went on. “But Loki, it’s what I said before. I didn’t need to tell them all that, alright? This group is built out of people much like you. Gamora and Nebula were daughters of Thanos. Rocket was made to kill. Drax is called the destroyer for a reason. And Mantis, Mantis helped Quill’s father nearly destroy the universe up until she betrayed him and helped the Guardians. All of them have killed. All of them have violent tendencies. They are wild and ugly and messed up, don’t you see? I don’t have to explain you to them. Because to them, you are just another one of them. You are not the villain, alright? I do not think you are either.”

The monsters were telling me that they had better intentions than I did. They were victims and I wasn’t. They must have been manipulated and I wasn’t.

Thor could probably see the argument taking place in my eyes. The patience he was radiating was making me tense as I attempted to keep my emotions in check once more.

“You are nothing they can’t handle. That I promise. I would not have brought you here if I thought it was a bad idea. I did not go into the specifics, but I did warn them of a few of your…” he looked to the wall, anxious for the best way to finish his sentence. “tendencies. So they have a general idea, alright, I promise.” 

“But Mantis?” I asked, my eyes trailing to her empty bed and then to the empty book I had sitting beside my own pillow.

He looked at me confused. “What about Mantis?”

“She just seemed so…accepting. But she’s so innocent. I don’t understand.” As he thought this over, I felt utterly exposed. Vulnerable even. I wondered for a moment how long this conversation had been going on. It felt like hours, but I knew it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. I felt guilt rise over the conversation happening in the first place. Because simply put, I was wasting Thor’s time. Wasn’t I?

“Loki, I’m pretty sure Mantis accepts everyone.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know, but she seems so certain. Too certain.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Did you let her do her…thing?”

The simple thought of letting her touch me. Letting her peer into my soul. It gave me shivers. It made me sick. It made me feel like the whole point of my conversation with Thor was a waste, because whatever confidence he had instilled in me would vanish. Because if Mantis touched me and really saw me for who I am, she would run. She would see that my darkness was more dangerous than the rest and she would hate me. And then she would get everyone else to hate me too. Maybe even Thor.

“No.”

He nodded, looking a bit disappointed. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t like it.

“If you ever do that…”

“I won’t.”

“If you do,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder somewhat reminiscent to Mantis. “She will only accept you more.”

I knew that was nonsense, but I appreciated Thor’s confidence. His confidence in me helped me relax just a bit at the thought of another day. At the thought of another night. My self-worth was honestly crumbling a little more each day, along with my pride. I was glad to have someone to help me keep it intact. Just a little bit.

Thor, of course, hadn’t saved me. I couldn’t let him save me just yet. If ever. The monsters still had dominance. My hand still held the key to opening up my own cage. I was under destruction and construction all at once. My hands felt red and bloodstained, and my face was raging fire. I could not see clearly. I could still hear the laughter far off in the distance. But I knew, that for now, I might be okay. I felt a bit better than I had when I woke up. Maybe I could blame it on the shower or maybe I’d give my brother credit. I wasn’t sure just yet.

Groot had come in announcing that Quill had made something somewhat edible for breakfast and that they would finish it off before we got there, and they didn’t give a damn about our feelings. We better hurry.

But before I could turn to follow him, Thor wrapped two arms around me in an extremely tight hug, that I tried to keep myself from squirming out of. “Know that I love you, brother. Always.”

Slowly escaping I turned toward him, nodding thankfully, trying to repress these eyes of mine that were often too expressive despite my straight expression. “And I, you.”

_If you find yourself in a lion's den_  
_I'll jump right in and pull my pin_

_My blood / Twenty One Pilots_

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	7. Seven: Mantis

**Seven**

_**Mantis** _

_Empathy:_

_Let me hold the door for you._

_I may have never walked a mile in your shoes, but I can see that your soles are worn and your strength is torn under the weight of a story I have never lived before._

_So let me hold the door for you._

_It's the least I can do._

_-Morgan Harper Nichols_

__

I had eventually gotten some sleep in the night, despite the countless times I felt myself change positions. I have always wished my powers could be used on myself. But then again, I avoided my own emotions often because I didn’t wish to understand them. I knew I would be okay.

As long as I could give, I didn’t need a thing for myself.

Even now, I was scraping Quill’s questionable breakfast onto two separate plates so that my selfish friends wouldn’t take food away from our new friends. If Loki and Thor were interacting in some way, I thought it would be nice to allow it. I tried not to scream at Rocket for sending Groot down to interrupt them.

When they did come up, I held out the two plates I had been hiding under the table, earning a few angry protests from Rocket and Drax. “You are cruel,” I said eyeing them, as the brothers took their plates politely. Because they knew how to be polite, unlike some people I know.

What I couldn’t help but admit to myself though, was that Loki always had my full attention, no matter what he was doing. It was always interesting. Always intriguing. There was nothing that got my attention more than a person of complex nature that I could understand. That I could figure out. Love even.

The issue with that was that I was afraid somehow, in a way I had never been afraid of anyone before. It wasn’t that I believed he would hurt me. It wasn’t about me at all. It was all him. I was afraid for him. I was afraid that if I messed something up if I hurt him, he may not recover. He may not get back up. I was afraid of destroying him.

Maybe it was foolish to think that way. To think my influence even mattered to him. I was probably just a pest to him if I was being honest. But sometimes he would glance at me and keep it there for just a moment as if he was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t understand. Don’t get this confused though. To a normal eye, you may think I’m describing something romantic. Loki’s intentions for me are far from romantic. In fact, I’m not sure there are any intentions at all. I’m not even sure if he cares. But somewhere I swore I caught his attention. Somewhere I swore he looked at me as if it did matter.

I hardly talked to him all day. To my great pleasure, he spent a lot of time with Thor, at least compared to the amount of zero time he had spent with him before. In-between all that I was busy blowing things up with Rocket and Drax, so I didn’t see when he had gone back to his hiding spot where he always went. I saw him later as I passed, but I hurried back to my friends who were waiting for me.

I didn’t see him again until night when I was lying across from him with a pile of yarn on my lap. I was attempting to make a hat, though it was quickly turning into a very lopsided scarf.

Loki had been playing mindlessly with a paper cup for a good while, positioning its contents above his brother’s face in a way that was sure to get his attention. But yet, Loki looked so unsure about it. I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. It was a prank. It was a baby prank. This was Loki. The God of Mischief. I was actually disappointed by his lack of creativity.

But then, just as he was about to tip it again, he slammed the cup down to his side and groaned. I don’t know if he realized he had done so aloud until he glanced up at me, suddenly being painfully aware of my gaze. He rolled his eyes then, before smashing his face into the pillow with another groan.

I had decided that this was completely unacceptable, especially for Loki. If something could somehow take away his urge to spill a cup of water on his brother’s face, then that something had truly broken him. And he knew it.

Again, Loki had managed to stay out of sight from me for most of the next day. I don’t actually think he was avoiding me, but I think he knew I would question his behavior. From what I knew of his behavior, he was clearly thinking about a lot of things. I wasn’t sure if it was an improvement or not, but once when I glanced back and saw Thor laughing at something he had said, and Loki smiling just a bit, I decided it probably was a good thing.

Later, Quill had landed the Benavar in a forested area outside of a planet mostly known for mining. He needed to get fuel and thought it would be nice to get out and move around a bit. This resulted in Thor, Rocket, and Drax setting up a bonfire, while he went to find fuel. Groot was ordered to stand back because he was made of wood, while Loki and I watched from afar.

Once everything was set up, our group began cooking things. I was growing quite fond of this smores that Quill introduced us all too. It was wonderful to combine such delicious ingredients into one thing. But I was very fond of the marshmallow. I had become obsessed with sugar since I had joined the team since I had never really had it before. Sometimes they had to rip things away from me that would make me too hyper. Apparently, I was crazy enough as I was.

Halfway through stuffing my face with my third smore, I caught sight of Loki sitting back away from the fire, watching it intently with a blank gaze. I wondered if I was being foolish by walking toward him, but I kept walking. I could blame it on the sugar if it backfired.

But when he saw me coming, he didn’t look upset and actually went out of his way to look up and give me a half smile. I grinned back, pulling my jacket tighter over my shoulders since it was colder over here, far from the fire.

“Don’t you like the fire?” I asked him.

He shook his head, glancing at the flames with an unsure smile. “Fire is alright. I don’t like the heat.”

A bit beside him was an empty tree stump that I sat down onto. “Are you the one always turning the air up?”

He looked away, a small smile forming on his lips. I sighed, thinking of the fact that I had to add two more blankets to my bed since he had arrived on the Benavar. When he didn’t answer, I laughed, knowing he had already answered me by the silence.

“But fire…” he began, glancing at me in slight confusion as he looked at my clothes.

I echoed his confused look. “What?”

“That isn’t your normal attire,” he commented, pointing to me. I looked down, examining my black leggings and an oversized green hoodie.

I nodded. “Yes, I got these on Earth.”

By the look he was giving me, he didn’t know I had been to earth. So I went on explaining how the Guardians had explored Earth a bit after the battle with Thanos. Quill wanted to see if he could find any remnants of his family, with little success, so the rest of us decided to explore in the city, mainly New York. We had went shopping while trying to blend in as humans, which was difficult to do. Drax stood out the most like a sore thumb since we couldn’t stick him in a baby carriage as we did with Rocket and Groot. I needed no more than a hat to blend in somewhat, as long as they didn’t look right at me.

“Have you been to New York?”

He looked so ashamed. “Once,” he said, looking away from me. “Actually, twice.”               

“Bad experience?”

He nodded slowly, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

I respected his wishes, pointing to my clothing. “I bought so much clothing.”

“You almost look like a Midgardian.” 

I nodded slowly. “I do?”

“Yeah, other than the antenna and the eyes…”

“Ugly, huh?” I said, the smile not leaving my face. I had, of course, embrace my ugliness.

Loki looked a little bit horrified at my words, opening his mouth quickly in denial but pushing it to shut sharply. “Why would you think that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing over at the Guardians. “Most people say it, but I know it’s not a bad thing. Drax said that if you’re ugly and someone loves you, it means they love you for real.”

Loki shook his head, no buying it. Clearly, he had the mindset that it seemed most people had about attractiveness. He looked to me for a moment, examining my face thoroughly. Then he looked away so that his eyes were on the fire and he said with certainty, “You’re not ugly.”

I appreciated his compliment, knowing he was being kind. When he said this, he reminded me of Gamora, as his eyes, though the liar eyes of Loki, were so very genuine. And I think the only reason this genuine act existed was that he knew. He knew what words could do. Perhaps he had never been called ugly, but he must have been called things. For the same reasons Gamora felt the need to, Loki also felt the need to remind me of this.

“It is nice of you to say,” I responded, smiling brightly at he, who was consumed by the fire before him.

He hated it, I could see. He hated it like little else, and even more, he feared it.

When he didn’t say anything for a while, I brushed his shoulder with my hand. “Loki?”

Startled by my touch, he turned my way, wearing a heavy look. He breathed, “something’s wrong.”

Wide-eyed, I watched him stand on the stump in an attempt to see above the forest, where he was pointing. And there it was, a giant cloud of smoke much like ours, but nearly ten times in size. It could not be a larger bonfire and there was really only one option.

“I just have this feeling,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I can’t shake it.”

“Intuition,” I said quietly, standing up beside him on my own stump. But I couldn’t see much more here since I was a lot shorter than him. “Maybe we can help,” I told him, motioning to the rest of our friends around the fire.

But he ignored them, removing himself from the stump and bolting toward the trees without looking back. I almost followed him but decided I should probably gather up some backup since clearly, Loki wasn’t about to.

I turned to Thor who had clearly noticed Loki darting into the woods. I pointed, motioning for him to come with. “He just took off,” I said.

“Hold on,” Thor said. Without much thought, Thor came over to me, picked me up so that I was on his back, and immediately flew us out of our set up camp, over the trees and the nearby lake. When we arrived at the spot where the billowing smoke was coming from, I could only see Loki, at a standstill at the edge of the forest.

He hardly registered our presence as we each stood on one of his sides, watching the sharp flames build up higher before our eyes. When I took a step closer to see Loki, I could only find a blank look that told me nothing as to why he was behaving in such a way. But yet he stood, his face beholding a disaster without a trace of recognition it was happening. All I could see were the flames reflecting against his eyes, which were dark in the shadow of the trees.

Thor had run ahead toward it all, making conversation with a frantic woman who was shouting things I couldn’t hear from where I was standing.

Suddenly, Loki pushed himself forward toward where his brother was, glancing briefly at me with a quiet “thank you.” I wasn’t sure yet what I had done, but the way he walked made me think there was more on his mind than a mere curiosity of a simple fire. More than the people who could be in danger. More than the danger he could be putting himself and his friends in. He looked now at this fire with now unmasked terror, the same as he had the small one by the ship. But yet, in his past terror, he had come running to the bigger flames. I couldn’t understand why until he was standing too close to falling pieces of the building, as it crashed and erupted in sparks and ash.

He was attempting to overcome fear.

“It’s an orphanage,” I heard Thor say, with a cry in his voice that made my heart sink, almost as much as what he had just said. I glanced around, wondering where the children were. The answer I got was too painful to process, so I put my eyes on the woman, trying to swallow as I watched both Thor and also Loki making their way through the front door, the fear gone from both of their bodies. I followed them, just before an avalanche of burning debris fell in front of me, blocking my entrance.

I heaved out, stepping back in horror at the thought of the children and the thought of my new friends trapped inside with no way out. And also, that it was I who would be responsible for saving them if they could not save themselves. I wondered if I should try to call for the rest of the Guardians who I deeply regretting saying nothing to. But it was too far for them to hear and the walk there would take too long. There really would be nobody to save Thor and Loki then.

Not seeing another way in, I tried to calm myself by stepping back. It was just an old mansion. Thor would have no trouble breaking out of it. Neither would Loki. I was overreacting over nothing.

I looked to the woman, who to my amazement actually did have a large number of children by her side that I had somehow missed. In the dark, they were hidden as the woman stood ahead of them. I glanced at her, meeting her eyes that were full of whatever one would call the feeling right before the shock. I could not pinpoint it, but I felt my stomach sink at her pleading look.

“How many children do you have?” I asked her, not sure I wanted to know. But needed to know so that I could count them out for myself.

She was shaking, but her answer was certain. “forty-six,” she told me, her eyes burning as she stared in horror, much like Loki had when they first arrived, but hers were accompanied by thick lines of tears. I knew, by the way she had said the number, that she would never stutter while saying it. She would never add a question mark to the end of her statement. She was absolutely certain. She knew the name of every child in that building and every child sitting beside her. With every movement she made, she almost ran forward. It took every bone and every amount of will in her soul to keep herself put. She was more dedicated to these children than she was to herself.

That’s what made this so hard. Because there were maybe thirty kids behind us, and nearly twenty kids still inside.

My hands unsteady, I took a step farther back, willing my eyes back toward the house and away from the woman. Though I am an empath, my throat felt hollower and hollower as I thought of feeling her heart. At the thought of feeling her emotion. As of late, I couldn’t look in her direction without the heaviness in my eyes turning hot. I had to grip a tree to keep myself on foot.

Along with that, I also felt an overbearing need to help. If I could not bring life to one child, I could at least try to breathe it into this shaken woman. I could at least offer her a sliver of comfort in his harrowing moment. But I simply did not know how at this time, trying to keep my body from bursting as I looked her way.

With careful movements, to not startle, I reached out my hand so that it rested on her shoulder. My hand grew hot with her skin as I held myself there, feeling something inside of me shivering wildly. I could feel it in my gut. It was like somebody has kicked me in the stomach. All at once I felt it, in nausea and panic. I felt nothing but sickness and dread. I was almost toppling over where I stood, hardly keeping my hand yet on the woman.

When Thor and Loki arrived, I felt her spirits lighten for a moment, at the sight of about nine pained, but living, children. I couldn’t look up for long though, as I attempting to muster enough strength to pour peaceful emotions into this woman. But yet, I knew as well as her that there were still several kids that they could not save, and that radiated all throughout her bones.

Thor, in lost spirit, explained to the woman that any other children they found were dead, but it was so lifelessly said. He was tired of standing with death all around. He was sick of it.

Loki was silent, still clinging onto a girl who had blood trickling down her chin, and dead eyes that saw nothing but the memory.

I felt it harder every moment. I felt this woman I had not let go of, as she felt the relief of the nine, and then the realization of the rest, and then the full impact of the utter devastation of her loss like a tidal wave. She fell forward as Thor caught her by the hands, trying to keep her from hurting herself more so than she had while saving the children. She collapsed, and my hand let go, but I felt her first sob and it nearly knocked all breath out of me.

Letting go, I gripped onto that same tree with shaky movement, feeling my face grow hotter and hotter, as mindless tears came pouring down my cheeks without mercy. It did not remain there, as I felt it first in my stomach and then in my throat, as I immediately threw up all over my Midgardian clothes and then somehow plummeted to my chest. It hurt significantly, but the convulsing of my body and the choked back sobs distracted me. It must have gone on for hours. A repetition of these events. Everything was on fire. Everything was in black. And I, I was empty. I was empty to my very bone.

In one last second before collapsed in exhaustion, I took every ache and every sickness, and every feverish impulse and I screamed at the top of my lungs, up until my lungs could take it no more and my surroundings disappeared from sight.

But I could not hear my own screaming. My screaming mattered not. The only scream I could feel was the scream within the depths of the poor woman’s soul.

_Have a heart that never hardens,_

_a temper that never tires,_

_and a touch that never hurts._

_-Charles Dickens_

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who may be interested, I created a playlist for this story, as well as individual playlists for both Mantis and Loki that apply to this story as well as their character's in the normal MCU. (Note that the story playlist has a few odd choices that might imply things about this story that simply aren't true. Sometimes certain parts of a song work, but not all of it.)
> 
> Story Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/jenna323.m/playlist/12GST6q9iQWx5TovbfYtLT?si=Q-1hKOQcSVW9_yTgq0bELg 
> 
> Loki Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/jenna323.m/playlist/0S0aqDsriZbunhFiqWR6dT?si=GPgiGJrVS7iR16k2aopsiw 
> 
> Mantis Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/jenna323.m/playlist/4XTCslL2SQEkCZfUlHJMOg?si=gOUrTuHoRMOP88o24IZXng


	8. Eight: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's side of things.

**Eight**

_**Loki** _

_Self-love is not so vile as sin_

_as self-neglecting."_

_-William Shakespeare_

__

As a frost giant, I minded the heat. More than minded it, I suppose since it sometimes had such a physical toll on my body that I had learned to avoid all fire from little on up. Once I knew of my origins, it made more sense. I knew then why I had always felt dizzy around bonfires and why my skin nearly burned me alive when I was outside on the hotter days. Too much sunshine would leave me sick to the stomach and many layers of clothing would leave me feverish. It was just how I was.

Not too long ago I had awakened Ragnarök for the good of Asgard. Thor had never known how weary I had been at the sight of the Eternal Flame, but alas, I had lived through it. I had dealt with the conditions also if it was a key to my survival. And today, as I race madly through a building encompassed in flames, I survived.

Mantis probably thought today was all about fear to me. Of course, in some ways, she would not be wrong to assume such a thing. Fear remained in me at the sight of flames for many reasons that my soul refuses yet to address. However, today was not about fear. It was about humility.

It birthed itself during these last few weeks, as I told myself over and over that I was a selfish being. Over and over and over. Always, always selfish. It struck a chord in me that I could not breathe through. It consumed my thoughts. All guilt had, but this had taken control on this day. If not for this part of me, could Asgard live? If not for this part of me, would mother still be here? I needed to rid my selfishness before I murdered Thor as well.

So today I saw something that I knew would cause me harm despite that I could maybe help another person. And I told myself not to be selfish. My condition would not matter. I would push through it. I would prove to myself that I could be something more than just that selfish Loki that I let roam in my mind’s own landscape.

Now I sat with my back against a tree, where Thor had placed me after I had nearly crumbled while pushing myself to exit the building. He must have remembered the times of our youth when I had made him stop during long walks because if we didn’t I would make myself sick. He used to complain and complain, but he understood things better now. Maybe he even understood why I had been that way.

I pushed my head back with relief of my survival, trying to purge the images of lifeless children spread out across an orange room. I could almost snub the burning sensation all over my skin at this thought because despite that this was something I forced upon myself, I knew that I did care. Even now, a young girl about the age of ten gripped me securely, just about as firmly as I was gripping her.

“Don’t worry, brother,” I heard Thor say from somewhere around me, that I could not see as my eyes were drifting shut. “I’ll get you back to the ship real soon. We’ll put you right in front of the air conditioning.”

I sighed aloud, feeling my exhaustion take over now, as I was simply touched by the fact that he did, in fact, know.

In all of this, he sounded so broken that I wanted him to stop. I needed him to stop because now I was already becoming guilty. And for what? Dragging my brother into another dangerous situation? For dragging him into something that would break his heart further? So maybe I was selfish after all.

Behind me a bit, in the slight alertness of my body, I could hear Mantis. She sounded as if she was being wounded relentlessly, and with that, slowly being destroyed. I almost crawled my way back to her as screams erupted from her throat, repeatedly in her own devastation. I knew she must have touched the woman if this was happening. But in my small attempt, I found strength nowhere in sight. I leaned my head down in the dirt and closed my eyes, not opening them again until we were back on the Benatar.

I had blinked my eyes open, initially startled to be back and away from that other atmosphere, filled with smoke and blackness. It was a great relief to be in a bed, cool and calm, softly beneath a blanket and only a thin layer of clothing. At the thought of this, it hit me that Thor had carried me back and I felt something much like love rise in my chest. It had been dormant for a while, but I felt it loud and clear. I couldn’t deny that I had immense love for my brother.

It was the way I had felt when I was much younger before my jealousy had warped the optimistic association I had with Thor. He used to be my world, as he had put it when talking to me. And maybe I was his, as he spoke, but I knew for certain that he had always been mine. He was simply that though. My big brother. My big brother who I wanted to be when I grew older. My big brother who I ran to when I was scared or sad or lonely. My big brother who helped me when I was hurt or sick. My big brother who never, ever changed.

I was the one who changed.

And changing still.

I sighed aloud, glancing to my side where I saw Mantis curled up in Drax’s bed, with her head buried into the pillow. She was not exactly still as she rocked herself almost, with quiet sniffling buried by the sound of the creaking bed. Clearly, she was still recovering from whatever she had felt by touching that woman, and I can’t say I blamed her. Now as I blinked myself more awake, I could remember bits of the way back, when Drax had taken Mantis by the waist and held her over his shoulder, as she panicked, in hysterics.

Now as I watched her, still in somewhat of a panic, I felt the guilt harder now just I had at the thought of Thor. How could it be? I go from this horrible lack of remorse to this constant hatred? Or maybe the two had always been intertwined. But now I wondered if guilt was necessary to be good and if I could be good without it. Certainly, it was making my quest for selflessness difficult, when my acts were hurting some of the best people I knew. Hurting people I was slowly beginning to call friends.

This completely logical part of my brain told me I was not even responsible for their grief. I had not caused the fire. I had not asked them to follow me. But yet they did, and yet, here I was, guilty.

Mantis rolled over, watching me through the slits of her eyes. But they were weary and unfocused. I wondered if she could actually see me.

I thought to say something. Anything. But I felt no energy to do so and I was unsure how to go about it. As I’ve said before, I have never really had a friend, besides Thor. Mantis was somewhere in between acquaintance and friend, and honestly, I found her entertaining and pleasant enough to cross that bridge. Indeed, I feared her powers still. But as the days did pass I felt a part of myself change. After the other day with Thor, I had felt something I could only call relief. And maybe, just maybe, letting another person in could do me some good. But then, my fear of rejection would always double over my need for relief.

After my contemplations, I looked to see that her eyes had already fallen closed and her rocking had stopped. She had found some form of peace and that let me relax.

I was overcome with the urge to do the same, as I decidedly closed my eyes just to rest them and ended up opening them again after much time had passed. At least a few hours. When I opened them this time, Mantis was awake, watching me.

I sighed to get her attention and she forced a partial smile. It took so much strength for her to do just that because, at this moment, she was broken. And in my wonder, as I stared at her thoughtfully, I determined it was not the first time. And also, not the last.  

Rolling onto my side, letting her know she had my full attention, I tried to be comfortable. But in reality, I was still very warm but also shivering inside my skin. Mantis, I could see between her own sorrow, had not let this pass her notice. She looked a few times as if she may say something, but I think my warning gaze was enough to cease it. I would recover soon enough, I needed not to concern anyone. I think she knew how I felt, as I wrapped the blanket around my burning skin.

I decided to attempt to put my focus on her. And there she was, looking too hollow to be Mantis. Too sad to be the creature I knew and quite nearly loved. How, in the case of any disaster, could they simply purge that from her? Her, the girl who made me feel like a pile of dirt at the sight of her sunshine. I almost couldn’t stand for it. I almost wanted to do something to the woman she had touched. But also, I was aware my thoughts were crazy. And even more so, I was aware I was getting a bit too passionate for a man who was certain they didn’t want a friend. Who was certain they didn’t have any.

Clearly, even though my mind told me Mantis was no friend of mine, my heart had betrayed me. I cared, too much for my own good.

“You can let go of what that lady felt, you know? They aren’t actually your feelings.” Perhaps I was wasting my breath by saying such a thing as if that would fix it. I knew well enough that a feeling couldn’t be talked out of existence. You could never ask a feeling to simply leave. It would dwell there until it could be replaced with a new one. Perhaps I could provide that for Mantis. I just didn’t want to think about what that would entail on my part.

“But they feel like my feelings.” It’s as I said it. It didn’t matter whether they were hers. She felt them, so they _were_ hers. They belonged to her just as much as they had that woman. I wondered if she would grieve just as long as her? Did Mantis still grieve the lives of other broken hearts she had met over these last few years? 

“Yes, okay. So you felt them. What if you touched someone who was in love, would you then also be in love with that same person?”

She shook her head, smiling a bit. “No, I don’t think so. I would just be happy for them. I guess it’s easier to not be attached to feelings like that. But feelings like sorrow or heartbreak. Those emotions become my own.”

Good emotions were always fleeting, were they not? Maybe I knew this too well. Maybe I wanted nothing more than to force it a lie. But she was as right as my own memory. As right as my own grief. “I suppose that does make sense.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?” Her question was random and made me less uncomfortable than any person would think. For me, love was sort of a stranger in the back of my head. He had been there once on a few occasions, but like years past, I pushed him back farther. Sometimes, of course, a general love for Thor or art or even strangers could make its way forth. But that of true, romantic love, sat blankly in some dusky space in the back of my brain. It was nowhere. It was missing.

But to answer her question, I knew the answer by heart. I knew the answer with certainty I could not deny if I tried.

I laughed. “Almost, once. But I think I’d be too much for another person now.”

It was simple. I was too much to be a brother. Too much to be a son. Too much to be a friend. But to be a lover? How could I be anything but too much?

“I don’t think so.”

I laughed with melancholy, almost as if it was all a joke now. I could have been rude or hurt, but I was amused. I was amused by her hope in me since it was so foolish and naïve. “You don’t know me, Mantis.”

“I really don’t think so,” she said again, looking me over, probably noting the scarlet glow of my feverish skin. But she pressed forth, a smile bursting to her mouth. “I think you like to pretend you’re dark, but I think if someone tried to hug you, you’d melt.”

Not knowing a better way to respond to that, I simply groaned, saying, “to hell with it, Mantis.” I rolled over, burying my face in Thor’s pillow.

“You are so dramatic,” she said, her voice laughing. How could I deny what she was saying?

Silent for a moment now, I almost fell into slumber. My body was growing so heavy again, like the heat of the flames were all around me again. It nearly burned, but I was shivering. Pulling the covers more over me, I hid this from Mantis.

Or tried to.

“Are you alright, Loki?”

Her concern was neither upsetting nor comforting. Of course, I wanted nothing more than to be alone without her curious eyes looking my direction, however, I couldn’t deny I appreciated the concern. It had been quite a while since I had anyone in my life who could take care of me, whether I was ill or just hurt. Now there was this tiny woman who was concerned about my wellbeing and I didn’t know what to do with that.

I swallowed whatever made me want to tell her to leave me alone and nodded slowly. “Alright,” I whispered, glad my voice at least sounded confident.

In truth, I was just so tired. The only thing keeping me awake was my will to do so, but it would not last long. I needed it, I knew. I might as well let my need win.

She pulled herself from her covers and slowly made her way over to me so that she was close to my face. I almost panicked at the sight, but quickly realized I was too tired to care. What’s the worse she could do? “Let me help,” she said, her voice careful and soft. And she was all that, but when you looked at her face, you could see she was still broken. That, of course, never kept her from giving out.

“Tell me how,” I said, deciding not to immediately tell her no. I knew she would insist anyway even if I had said so and figured it wouldn’t hurt to find out what exactly she could do.

Taking her hand and very slowly moving it toward my face, she paused, probably knowing how very little I wanted to be touched by her. Dropping her hand, she nodded in remembrance. “As you know I can feel feelings,” she began, as I nodding barely. “But I can also give or share feelings.”

The confusion probably flooded my face, but I was listening carefully. Either way, it seemed, she would have to touch me to ever achieve any of her goals. I had initially assumed she was going to make me a home remedy of some sort.

“I can’t make you well,” she told me, edging her hand closer to my face. “But I can make you feel well.”

“So you want to trick me into thinking I’m fine?”

She shook her head. “No, not a trick. But I can ease your suffering.”

I almost smiled, knowing what this really was. Knowing all about illusions. Her choice of calling what I had “suffering” was also a bit funny to me, mainly cause I didn’t actually feel that bad. Clearly, I must look a lot worse than I felt.

Her idea wasn’t bad, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted her touching me. I didn’t want her to know me, not really. And likely, she would get some of that. Besides, she had already been through enough today, I doubted she needed the burden of my psyche ruining her day even more.

“I’ll be alright, Mantis.”

The look on her face told me she wasn’t about to let it go. “Loki, you’re burning up.”

“Yes, well I told you I didn’t like the heat. But I always cool off eventually. I always do. I’ll be fine, Mantis. You can let this go.”

Instead, she reached out all the way this time, resting her hand on the side of my head. “I won’t invade your privacy. I promise.”

I almost grabbed her hand and put it up out of reach from my face, but before I could, I felt what she was talking about. Under her breath, she was whispering things I could barely hear, but I could feel whatever she was doing spread through my body. It started in my head and flooded down my face, then it made its way down my arms and chest, then my legs. It came quickly and almost instantly, and I sighed as I accepted it.

It took away the heaviness just a bit. The aching. The distress. Though it had only been a small fever that plagued me, I hardly felt it now. As I brought my hand to my face, I could see I was still very warm, but it didn’t feel the effects of it. I still felt tired, but I didn’t feel the overbearing exhaustion, just the quiet want to sleep. I think, in some ways, she was even putting me to sleep. It was pure. So simple. So nice. I nearly asked her to do more after that, even after my eyes began drifting closed. But it was almost too late.

It was best that I was falling asleep. If I stayed awake too long in this amazing feeling, I might let her touch me. I might let her feel what I feel. Silently, I almost decided I would one day. Silently, I fell off into a sleep that I was so deep I wondered if I would ever wake from it.

_I fall asleep whispering_

_"I am safer alone I am safer alone I am safer alone I am safe alone"_

_[...]_

_Forgive me, memory is a rope around the neck._

_\- Clementine von Radics, from James_

__

 


	9. Nine: Mantis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mantis gives and gives.

Nine

Mantis

_You lie awake and you feel like you’re dying_  
_To see the look through my eyes_  
_Maybe for once in your life_  
_Barely alive to the sight of the sirens lights_  
_Your lies had taken what lied behind your emerald eyes_

_-Blacklisted Me / Emerald Eyes_

__

I had almost fallen asleep, right there beside him, with my hand on his cheek and my knees against the floor. For a while I almost did, telling myself I could manage to keep my face there with eyes shut, just a minute or two. Honestly, I might have fallen asleep there if I hadn’t jolted myself awake, feeling a stray memory of what happened in the grass just a few hours ago. I almost threw up again, but I managed to gather enough oxygen to keep myself from doing so.

I woke up later in my bed, unsure how I got there, but glad that I had. Loki slept on and I wouldn’t want to startle him when he woke up. He hardly wanted me touching him. Sleeping with him was something else.

I tried once again to get some sleep, but each time I closed my eyes, I was back there, in the grass with a hammering heart, making noise until my throat was fire. If I fell asleep now, I feared what Loki may be brought awake to, pulling him from his own much-needed sleep. He was the one who had risked his life to save everyone, and I was the one who lost her mind far more than the woman experiencing it. I was being too vulnerable. Loki was the one who deserved sleep, not me.

So I pulled my sweaty form from my sheets, stumbling my way to where my friends would be, in a hope that they would not bring up the incident, and simply greet me as friends who wanted to enjoy life with me. And in Guardian fashion, they did that.

Drax accepted me into a short hug, before drawing me into the activities at the table where Quill and Rocket were bickering about the rules of a game, while Brunnhilde read the real rules calmly beside them. Leaning in to watch, I felt myself smile, even if I did not feel the need for it. It was how I went on after the fire.

Later on, I found Thor sitting alone, deep in thought over what I would suppose could only by a multitude of things. He looked calm, but his eyes told me that he was full of rage. A rage that maybe I could not extinguish with my touch, but I would try. I would give. 

“Are you worried about Loki?” I asked, slowly making my way so that I was beside him.

He looked at me, his eyes a storm. “I _am_ worried about Loki.” I didn’t say anything, and so he went on. “He’s been displaying such strange behavior, Mantis. A behavior I’ve never seen in him before.”

“The nightmares?” I asked, leaning into the seat beside Thor.

He nodded. “Well, yes the nightmares. But also…also today. The fire. Taking off. It didn’t make any sense.”

The mention of the fire made me uneasy, but I swallowed it down and cast my concerns on Thor and Loki. It had better use there.

“You wouldn’t have anything to compare it to, so you wouldn’t see it as strange,” he told me.

I shook my head. “It was random,” I said, mustering something positive. “But was it bad?”

Thor seemed quite certain that it was, as he looked in my direction. “He hurt himself,” he said, releasing a heavy breath. “He’s jötunn by blood, meaning heat is his weakness. He knows to stay away from it. He always has. It’s always made him sick.”

“And he ran right into it,” I said, my thoughts racing on the possibilities. I had myself convinced before that it was fear because a fire was simply a frightening thing for most. But he knew that it would hurt him, even if he simply got close to it. And he seemed to have no regard for that, and now he was in the back of the ship, burning through his sheets with his own body. So why did he do it?

“I don’t think he was trying to…die.”

Thor shook his head. “I don’t think so either, but it does show that he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about what happens to him.”

I knew Thor loved Loki, but maybe he wasn’t giving his brother enough credit. “Maybe he was being selfless.”

Thor sighed. “Yes, I know. That’s exactly what I’m saying. He thinks he needs to prove himself or do something dramatic to be a good person, but he doesn’t. I wish I could show him.”

There wasn’t much Thor could do to show him that. Other than word of mouth, Loki would get his affirmation from little else, and from what I know of Loki, this affirmation was necessary. That’s why Thor was so frustrated. He had so much to give and show his brother, but he had no idea how to do it. Not in a way that Loki would accept and understand.

Thor probably would have continued to talk to me, but Loki himself arrived through the doorway, looking worn out, to say the least.

“Nice nap?” Thor asked, his tone shifting. Clearly, he didn’t want Loki to know how torn up he was about all of this. Instead, he greeting him with a smile, simply happy to see his brother up and well.

Loki was weak, but not so weak that was going to allow himself the rest he needed. Instead, he joined Thor and me, positioning himself comfortably on the small sofa beside us. “It was alright,” he said, looking so confident from where I was sitting.

Clearly, his fever broke, which I was happy to see since we had never given him any real treatment other than what I had supplied. He hadn’t gotten bad enough to need anything more. And he was right when he told me earlier that it would go away. How it always did.

The thought that one day it wouldn’t go away met the back of my mind, but I wouldn’t indulge it.

It took me a few moments of my lost thoughts to realize both brothers were looking my way, waiting for me to respond to something. That’s when Thor repeated the question, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

What had I been doing that made them think otherwise, I wondered. As far as I could see, I was sitting there, my mind simply going on a small rabbit trail for a moment or two. Or maybe they were still referring to the night before or the bags that were probably under my eyes. Regardless, I decided to answer. “Yes.”

They didn’t buy it. Not at all.

“It must be a lot to feel all of that. Do these things last long?” Thor asked.

“You mean the memory of their feelings?” I asked, continuing on when I got no response. “It really depends. I just have to keep myself distracted.”

“Consider it our pleasure, then,” Loki said, his voice soft from the other side of me. I turned a bit, to study his face. It was tired and blotchy, but it was certain.

I had no choice but to smile back, this time more genuine than before. “Thank you,” I said quietly, temporarily allowing myself to remember the night before, with the comfort of my two friends. I didn’t want to show much emotion, knowing that they wouldn’t do so if they were in my shoes, but I also wanted to let it go. I knew what could happen if I didn’t. I knew how many hours of sleep I would miss. 

Clearly, they were aware that I was not doing well at pulling myself out of my feelings, which is why Thor suddenly had his arms around me and Loki was looking with full attention.  I nearly melted in Thor’s arms, which made me feel so protected and safe and warm. And Loki’s gaze, which was both kind and understanding, made me relax. I wanted to plainly announce how much I loved them both, but bit down on my tongue, mainly for the sake of Loki, knowing I may startle him with such a declaration.

Thor probably would just return the statement.

“Thank you,” I whispered again, trying to keep my voice strong as I rested my head on Thor’s chest, finding solace in his heartbeat. To this, I found Loki move closer so that he was beside us both, with his eyes gracefully dancing from me to Thor and back. And with that, a small smile. 

This later translated into Loki and I both disappearing into the back room where we spent a great majority of the day reading books and exchanging casual conversation. I was nestled up by the window with a copy of Alice in Wonderland, which was a book I found absolutely enchanting, while Loki read a book on Norse Mythology, with much amusement. He spent most of his time pointing out pictures of himself, and different people he knew, and how the Midgardians thought they had looked. I could not deny that some of them were quite peculiar.

Amidst the humor, there was also time for the opposite, when Loki came to people that were dead now, which was many of them, and told me what had happened to them. One of them being somebody named Heimdall.

“Has Thor mentioned him?” he asked.

 “He said Heimdall was his best friend. Were you and Heimdall friends?” I asked him, attempting to keep the conversation going, but he had gone scary quiet after my question and I wondered if I should change the subject.

“No,” he said, after what felt like hours. “He was not my friend, but he was on my side even when I wasn’t on his. Even when I was wrong.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, or even if I should, so I chose not to. Instead, I sat beside him, as he stared without focus at the book in his hands, somewhere in his thoughts probably hating himself. But still, I kept quiet, knowing I had nothing to say that would help.

“Such a moral compass, he was. Always on the side of Asgard. Always on the side of us.” His voice grew mildly fond as he went on. “Well, that didn’t always mean he sided with our endeavors. He did what he thought was best, and I think mostly, he was right.” As he went on though, I could see something growing in his expression, like a shadow behind him taunting him about it. Like a voice in his mind playing on repeat. His words were more certain, but his confidence wore away from his face.

But it was simple to see. “You feel responsible for his death.”

Don’t believe anything other than this, that Loki did, in fact, mean what he was saying about Heimdall, but it was also coming out of the woodwork because of guilt. Thor had told us the story. Loki had been indirectly responsible for the fall of Asgard and Heimdall was included in that. So now, he had no choice but to reflect. He had no choice but to realize who Heimdall really was to him now that he was dead. 

He shook his head, trying to keep his expression emotionless, but his face was betraying him. “No, Mantis,” he said, toying around with the book on his lap. “I _am_ responsible.”

It was simply put, and he meant it. I knew it was time to move on from this topic, so I pointed to a funny picture of Thor I saw on one of the pages. And we went on again. From time to time he would tell me about another person, but other than that, we spent quite a lot of time laughing at the drawings of Thor.

Later on, Loki let me know that he wouldn’t bother me anymore, so I could get to my book, which I knew was a polite way of telling me he didn’t feel like talking anymore. But he moved himself a bit more over on the bench to leave room for me, meaning he wasn’t about to ask me to leave, and that was good to know. It meant he liked my company. It meant he might even consider me a friend.

So we did that for a while, where I sat beside him and we both read our books in silence. And quickly, this became something more of a habit, as we met up almost daily to do this. Often times we wouldn’t even say a thing to each other for hours. I suppose we were both just that invested, but still, it was nice to be beside him. 

Quickly, it became my favorite place to be. Just this. As days past, our things began to clutter the area and the rest of the crew quickly understood that this was our place. Here we kept folded up blankets. Little boxes of candy. Loads and loads of books. I even put one of my favorite plants by the window.

In between this, I spent a decent amount of time with the rest of the crew. Thor was probably the kindest person I had ever met, so I very easily grew to love him like a big brother. Drax, as most people are aware, is my best friend. We do the most ridiculous, stupid, and pointless things together, but they almost always end with a laugh. Quill became my other big brother, who introduced me to music and supplied me with the most bizarre novels from the 80s. Rocket and I didn’t necessarily click like some of my other friendships, but sometimes he would stop to tell me I was a good addition to the team or sometimes jump on my shoulder to reach something high up. Groot was precious and selfless, always available to entertain me when I was upset about something.

To my great pleasure, I found three of my dearest friends sitting together, Drax’s laughter echoing through the ship. By the look of horror on Loki’s face and the look of amusement on Thor’s, I could only assume that Thor was talking about Loki.

Maybe Thor was going too far with whatever story he was telling, or maybe he wasn’t, but clearly, Loki was pissed off. It was incredibly difficult to tell if he was extremely upset or mildly annoyed, but his distaste for the conversation was evident.

“Please stop.”

Thor must have realized this, as he glanced at my gaze directed at Loki, and apologized. “Loki, you know this is all fun. I laugh now, but I know that it wasn’t funny back then. Not to you anyway. And I don’t mean it. I always admired your intelligence.”

Loki looked thoughtful for a minute, almost touched, and then laughed. “Are you finished? I see now that my sarcastic rage flew right over you. Though, if I may add, I apologize if I ever made you feel idiotic. It wasn’t my intention, you just were.”

Thor stiffened a laugh. “These things do not bother me, Loki. But I tell you them so that you know, I’ve always thought you were remarkable. Better than myself.”

Glancing at Drax and myself with discomfort, then looking at Thor with a very convincing annoyance, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that to heart then.”

I hoped with all hope, that he did take it with all his heart. From what I’ve heard, mainly from Thor’s end of things, the brothers had drifted apart from each other. Thor was certain he hadn’t done his best to keep his brother safe and loved, and in the same way, Loki had retaliated, now existing somewhere between a loving brother and a complete stranger. So what I saw here, was that Thor was trying, maybe a bit too much. But he had felt the need to make up for the past. He needed to make Loki know that he had valued him, even if he was too young and foolish to show it back then.

Before he brushed away the thought, I believe I witnessed him taking it to heart for just a moment. But he was stubborn and hid it from his face. His eyes remained playful now, as he sat in silence for the rest of the day, only raising his voice for brief moments that peeked in interest in some way.

Many times, I saw him look at me, almost secretly, as if to send me a message. I thought perhaps he was silently asking me to help him escape or maybe he knew what I knew about him. Either way, his eyes passed over me a few times and I did not fail to notice. It was in my nature to consume myself in the actions and movements of my friends. I knew things they didn’t want me to, and that came easy, the more I learned about them. Even if they wouldn’t let my hand touch them if I promised no humiliation. But Loki was different than most and I was still chaotically trying to solve him, like a puzzle to play, but yet, a friend to care for. It was only that simple. I wanted to give no matter how much it hurt, and I only hoped he would someday give back too.

_“You are a curious case of strangeness and extraordinary loveliness.”_

_-Gustave Flaubert, from a letter to George Sand_

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	10. Ten: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendship and brotherhood.

_It takes one moment to hate who you are, and lifetime to remember how to love yourself again. This is the most important war."_

_-Erin Van Vuren_

**Ten**

_**Loki** _

_**** _

I’m not sure when it happened, that I had considered Mantis a friend over a threat, but it had happened without my knowledge. Maybe it came the night after the fire when she had touched me and made the heat flee my face or perhaps it was her quiet company in my sundry efforts at solitude. I don’t know what exactly, and as of late, I care not. But I am certain now that Mantis is a friend. She treats me as such and I find myself thinking to return it, because I don’t want to stomp out this relationship. I don’t want to taint it like I have every other.

She sits now beside me, her own book in her hands, and she holds it delicately as if its breakable. But maybe that’s how she holds most things. Or maybe I’m paying too much attention and not enough on my own book. Here I have lost my place again and Mantis hasn’t said a single word.

And then she does, but not to me. I catch her saying something under her breath, and then she breathes in deliberately, and her eyelashes flutter closed. She is wincing where she sits, and it takes me a few moments to gather that she is straining to repress tears.

I consider her face that is unaware of mine, and she slowly begins to cry. In a few moments her intact world shatters, and she is sobbing for all the shards. But I just observe her, immobile, not knowing what I am supposed to do. As far as I know, the words of the story had stirred her, and this was just her reaction to those words. Or maybe this was a side effect of what had happened still a few days ago, after the fire. But as a friend, shouldn’t I know this for certain? Shouldn’t I know how to help, or if I should?

And suddenly I am unsure if she is my friend and if I am worthy to be that. So I look down, pushing myself to read the words in my own book, reading them blindly as the same sentence repeats itself over and over.

And then Mantis looks my direction, and I regard her in the corner of my eyes that I am hiding. She smiles small, and returns to her book, wiping away the tears.

This was the first time this happened.

The next time it occurred, she was closer to the end of her novel, seemingly reading it with consistent elation from that day forward. Two days had passed since she had cried beside me and I found myself nearly worried it would happen again, and I would yet again be dense. Some pathetic part of me considered asking Thor what he would do but knowing I would sink away into myself if I remained long enough for the answer. It would be humiliating.

To my alarm, it happened again as she turned over a page, her voice quiet this time, but in a passing glance, I see two streams glistening on her cheeks. I divert my eyes to the window, playing the situation around in my head, trying to think of the best way to counter to it.

The only thing that struck me was that I had lost something enormously indispensable. It had been there all along, even in my darkest moments, even in my worst nights. And it was solely me. My charisma. My captivation. My charm. My silver tongue. I knew how to damage, and I knew how to love, all within words. It was effortless to me and not a challenge.

But now, on this ship, before this ship, ever since Thanos came back…things are different.

Now, it wasn’t only beside Mantis. It was Thor. It was the other Guardians. It was the Avengers. I couldn’t be me no matter how much I wanted to. Not at all. Not even a bit. Thanos had jolted it from me and now minimal things, like communication, like cleverness, was vanished. I was a husk of myself, unable to string my words together the same, and it was laborious. 

And it hurt much worse now, to have my first sincere friend, who loved me as the person I was not, and maybe wouldn’t love the person I had always been. And here she was right now, tears streaming down her face, and I have no words. No ideas of an act. No cheek to thrust it forth. Just me, pursuing the circles in my head.

Instead of deliberating thoroughly, I turn to her, my voice snapping into submission “What is it?” My voice came callous and artificially from my lips sewn shut. I needed no needle and thread for it to be so, since Thanos had put it there years ago. These words were not my own.

She put her eyes on me, glistening and red. She breathed in, closing the book in her hand and shutting her eyes. “I just,” she started, containing no hatred for my tone, but speaking to me. “I just wish it wasn’t a dream.”

“Wonderland?” I asked, stunned I had made the connection.

She nodded a bit, staring ahead in a struggle. “I just wish I could go there.”

I wished I could take her there. 

“I wish all my books were reality,” I said, knowing at least in them, the dialogue made sense. The story would not go on and on as the main characters stumbled on, clueless. Lost. Broken. Alone.

Or maybe the character would, but it wouldn’t be so chaotic. It wouldn’t be so unpleasant.

Mantis, still upset, put a smile on her face and looked at me spiritedly. “Even that Norse Mythology one,” she said, a bit of laughter peaking through her watery tone. “You plan on growing a long orange beard?”

“Perhaps not that one,” I said, motioning to the cluttered floor, littered with my books.

And she sighed, and she was okay. Maybe I had done alright. Maybe I had helped somehow. Or maybe she had done it herself.

Despite this, my discouragement lived on. I left after this, with no want more than to force my head into the wall and scream at the top of my lungs. But knowing this would draw attention, I settled for crawling to my top bunk and putting my face in my pillow, my heart racing all throughout me.

I was yet again, haunted by the lack of me.

After a few minutes passed, I told myself I was being overemotional and got up, tiptoeing to the other end of the ship to where Thor was, not sure what I intended on doing when I got there or even if that’s what I wanted. But with a clear mind, I knew that there would always be one constant in my life: Thor. So, he’s who I went to. Not for anything, really. But to be beside him. It’s the only thing that could remind me I was on the right side of the gray line. That I was still capable of some sort of hero.

“I am becoming tired of this ship,” I said to my brother, who was in the process of assembling a sandwich, or to be more precise, a mass of meat with a slight cut of bread. If he were to add one more piece, I fear the sandwich may tip and descend off his plate.

“Where do you want to go?” he posed, eliminating a fair amount of condiments from the refrigerator, and a few things any common person would never include on a sandwich. “I’m sure they’re open to suggestions. Want anything?”

I shook my head, glaring in repulsion as Thor emptied canned pineapple over his mountain of meats. “I don’t care where we travel. I just wish to travel somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere that I won’t have to dash into a smoldering structure.”

Thor paused, looking at me cautiously. “You know, you didn’t need to do that.”

But Thor was mistaken, because I did need to. If I didn’t, I’d afflict myself with it for weeks. “You did.”

Laying his sandwich to the side, he sat across from me, looking at me meticulously. “Yes, so? I love fire, and you don’t.”

“You ran in cause you love fire?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, I ran in because there were guiltless broods inside, and because I wasn’t fearful of it. Because it’s what I do. It’s what heroes do.”

“I’m not fearful of it,” I bounced back, feeling the dread of my emotions preying behind me. I had to murmur, _don’t get upset, don’t get upset_ …cause it would help nothing. And there was nothing to be upset about.

I breathed, revisiting the things Thor had said about me earlier. And also the things he had said the day he embraced me. The first time he had hugged me since Ragnarök. And I was tired of the conversation and thought I wouldn’t mind being hugged by my brother now. For no reason. For no gain. But just because I wanted to.

“But it harms you,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Because heat is your Achilles’ heel.” I think he nearly pointed out that I was a jotuhn, but elected not to, to which I was indebted. As seasons had passed, I found little acceptance of my origins and bid to spurn my bitter roots from my notice. The reality would not slip away, but I meant to turn by back on it. I aspired to ignore that Thor wasn’t indeed my brother.

Maybe he did also. It’s what had created this cataclysm in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a disquieting need to do so. “Yes, you’re right. But I had to. I have to.”

“You need not to prove yourself, Loki.”

I shook my head in abhor. “Don’t you see? That’s precisely what I must do.” Before he could voice more I drove out a breath and kept on. “Not for you or anyone else, Thor, but for me. I have to do it for myself.”

“To what end? You don’t have to harm yourself to be noble.”

“Perhaps not, so it’s even-handedness then. Justice.”

He wasn’t taking it. “You have endured justice, Loki. We both have. I think we need to move forward.”

“No, do you understand how insignificant that is? It’s nothing. It’s nothing compared to what I recognize that I merit. Don’t you dare try to tell me I have come out the other end, I have not!”

“What of grace then? If you are sorry?”

Nodding in frustration, I sought to untie my mouth when he interfered with me once more.

“Then that is it. Nothing else is required. As the King of Asgard, I pardon you for your feats of goodwill for the inhabitants of Asgard.”

A laugh emerged from my throat that cut away Thor’s speech, and pushed forth my own. “Ah, yes. But you forget so easily that I _killed_ Asgard.” There was no light-heartedness there. Just bleeding candor. “I murdered them.” Too much honesty for me, too much to stifle my sickness. Yet I relish the rawness of it. I revel in the way my ribs bend open in it. But as of this moment, in authenticity, the raw vivacity becomes heavy and scalding.

I had startled him. He felt it balance graver than he had before, because I could see his own guilt, and he was conceptually adjoining my own to his shoulders.

“That is not your burden to bare. You were not their King.”

“Yet for some time before that, I was. And in that time, I had not equipped them. The lone being I sheltered form Thanos was myself, by shrouding myself in Odin’s form. And then, then I unconfined Hela. I brought about Ragnarök. I am the excuse that had us embark on that ship. The genuine reason Thanos was there, because I possessed the Tesseract. So Thor, do divulge to me how you can pronounce that I am guilty of anything less than massacring Asgard?”

“Oh, Loki…”

“Nothing less, brother!”

“Loki, there was no way you could have known all of that would happen.”

I seethed at the notion that he could not blame me, it spreading to my face, as it had a few weeks ago when I had confronted Thor about what he was revealing to the Guardians. “I am not innocent.”

“Your right,” he disclosed, his sandwich long forgotten. “You are not innocent. In fact, perhaps you are blameworthy. Maybe this is your fault,” he studied me, no malice in his eyes. “But your missing the whole point, brother. All of that is neither here nor there.”

I sought not anything more than to make him silent, using whatever means required. I needed him to recognize as lucidly as I felt it, that I was nothing. That I earned wholly the labor and alarm of Thanos’ clasp around my neck, and the impulse and wrench of despondency, and even more so, the recollection of what happened to that other me, that will ceaselessly keep me stirring at night. It was my own and it was the justice I craved. I felt as if I had cheated by not living it.

And I am the God of Mischief. I should want nothing more or less than just that. To decieve. To dodge mortality again.  

Instead I experience his clench. It’s like a perpetual hand-print on my throat. Almost always, I do. And he drags me along. He never really lets go. And I comprehend, at times, that it is not Thanos. Thanos is dead. So it’s only me doing this to myself.

“It’s irrelevant,” he said once, gazing through me, maybe seeing the strain in my emerald eyes. “Because that’s not forgiveness. Your my brother, Loki. This,” he said pointing at me, and then himself. “This is unconditional. You can do your worst. In fact, I think you have. But it doesn’t matter. If it did, it would not be forgiveness.”

I observed him indifferently, feeling the compulsion to enfold my own throat just as badly as I desired cling to my brother and not let go. Because the hands of Thanos, though uneasily received by me, were frightening. Perhaps his unconditional love for me could prevent the hands too.

Something inside told me it was too late. I should have felt this way years back. I should have wanted my brother’s help before everything. I was too old now to act this way. I was no longer a child. But I wanted to embrace him as a true brother, and I craved to thank him for being this way, but then also tell him with antagonism how very much I loathed it. 

“Loki, do you believe me?”

Oh, what a funny thing for him to say. It was as if maybe he knew me well enough to know I didn’t. That’s the curse of a liar. You can lie all you want. You can go through your whole life lying every waking hour. But in this, you fathom every beneficial and damaging thing that comes from it. Sometimes you even know it as intimately as a lover. But in all of that, your understanding becomes your pride. You begin to believe all words are lies. You begin to believe you know everything about everyone, and how genuine they are. If you wouldn’t do it, neither would they. I wouldn’t love Thor if he had done the same to me, so surely he couldn’t mean this. Lies become so standard that you cannot rely on the genuine. If I lie, they will also. I lie because they lied to me first, right? In my case, my descent emanated after I discovered that my father had lied to me. So maybe I had good reason. But also, I knew there was no good reason.

I did not really believe him.

“Someday you will believe me,” he said at last, and I desired to hug him again, but looked down, knowing I wouldn’t unless he initiated it. And he didn’t.

After a few moments, he looked at me again, clearly in thought. It concerned me greatly when he did this. It was the same terror I felt every time Mantis came closer than a yard from me. “Loki, you need to let someone in.”

Well, that’s fairly obvious.

“I mean it, alright? I know just as well as you do that there’s so much you aren’t saying. If you won’t talk to me, talk to someone else. Talk to Mantis.”

And there it was, the obvious solution. If anybody could understand me, Mantis could. And maybe she could. But I wasn’t about to fail her. Maybe I didn’t wish to scare her away. But Thor did have an argument I could not refute. My thoughts were getting crueler. My exertions were not decreasing. They were growing blacker. I’m aware that he must have overheard me in my nightmares. I will not pretend I don’t know that. So he is correct. I need help, and maybe talking would be of use. I’m not about to say that I haven’t considered it.

But I am not talking to Mantis.

“She won’t hate you,” he uttered.

Again, I found myself astonished that he could grasp my disarrayed mind.

“She’ll probably just love you more.”

There was a part of me that hoped he was right, but my trepidation was sturdier than that. I delighted in the bliss of this arm’s length friendship. I didn’t want it to end.

“She’ll feel your emotions, alright? Not your actions. Besides, she is an empath. She will have empathy.”

Maybe I wasn’t looking for empathy.

I decided to change the subject before Thor could sway me to do exactly what he was proposing. Instead, I looked away, pondering my dilemma from earlier. Now it seemed so trivial to overthink such a simple thing, but that didn’t mean it didn’t matter to me.

“I am glad you two have become friends.”

It was easy to say that, since I had never had a valid friend. Thor would have been ecstatic if I had made friends with a tree. In this case, I actually had the option to do that, with Groot and all.

“If it is friendship, then I am also glad,” I said, biting down on my lip, not wanting to reveal my earlier frustrations. But I heaved a sigh, saying something small. “It’s hard to talk.”

“You’re not the same. Loki, what happened?”

“Oh, so you’ve noticed too?”

“That your silver tongue has beyond doubt transformed to lead? Perhaps. I don’t know if it’s that as much as the fact that you don’t talk to begin with.”

I was far too quiet.

“Other than me and Mantis, I mean.”

He acts as if I should want to talk to these people. But he doesn’t understand. It’s not that I don’t want friends, it’s that I don’t trust. I’ve never had one and its demanding enough to have Thor, plus another. I am nearly losing my composure in social situations with a person who should not be difficult to speak to.

And I could say “no” to interacting with her. I could so easily. Maybe I have too much social anxiety for friends. But then, I’m beginning to think the loneliness was worse. Because now, I might lose my sanity, but I don’t feel a need for recognition really. I have enough attention and honestly it is enough. I need no more. I can’t handle more.

“What am I supposed to say to them?” I asked, lamely leaving out the thoughts bustling through. Then I laughed. “You don’t need to worry about me, Thor. I don’t know why you do.”

“I always worry about you. It’s cause I’m your brother.”

I laughed again, rolling my eyes at this nonsense. “You know you’re a bit late.”

He looked to the ground. “Yeah, I know I am. I have always cared for you, Loki. I’ve just been very bad at showing it.”

I sighed. “To be fair, I wasn’t much better.”

He didn’t exactly agree with me on that nor deny it, but he looked at me evenly. “Are we alright?”

“Of course,” I said, unconvincingly. “What do you suggest I do.”

He sighed. “You open up. You be honest. You don’t run when things get difficult.”

Did he know who he was speaking to?

“Let her touch you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think she’s been through enough this week. I don’t think you understand what she will be feeling.”

Thor clearly had no idea what it truly felt like to be in my head. As someone who has experienced some degree of mind control and often revisited other people’s memories for the sake of doing just that, usually for my own amusement, I know very well how overwhelming it is to be in someone else’s head. And despite all of that, mine overwhelms me a thousand times more. So, that being said, if Mantis were to visit the emotions that live inside of me, she couldn’t handle it. Poor girl, she wouldn’t last.

“Hey, I never said you had to show her everything. She can’t see what you’re unwilling to share. There is plenty she cannot see. She explained all of this to me. But even if she did, it wouldn’t change anything. Don’t you dare say she has not seen darkness because it simply is not true. Try it, Loki.”

I left then, without another word, pretending to be casual about. I wasn’t sure if talking to Thor had been beneficial or not. Part of me felt more loved by my brother than I had when I walked in. The other half felt like an idiot.

But hey, Thor and I were speaking regularly, so that had to be progress. Right?

_"Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt."_

_-William Shakespeare_

__


End file.
